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SONGS 



OF THE 



SAHKOHNAGAS 



BY 



HUGH DEVERON 



OjJX 






THE 



■:■.:■: ' 



Hbbey press 



XonDon 



PUBLISHERS 
114 
FIFTH AVENUE 
NEW YORK 



/Montreal 



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JJ3 Jj ' ; 



l\'^,0l'i 






THE LIIRARY AF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Conn Receiveij 

APR. T «902 

OoliVRWKT ENTRY 

CLASS O^XXr NO, 
COPY 6. 



Copyright, iQos, 

by 

THE 



CONTENTS. 



AGE 
SONGS OF THE SAKKOHNAGAS. 

1. The Legend of Herbert's Spring 7 

2. My Pearl of Pacolet 16 

3. The Swannanoa River 21 

4. Blue Eyes of Nantahayleh 24 

5. The Wine Spring 27 

6. The Siren of Sachem's Head 30 

7. From Billow to Brook 34 

8. The Snowdrop Maidens 27 

9. Tlie Songs that Need no Words 39 

10. The Oracles of May 41 

11. The Autumnal Harlequin .... 42 

12. A Cold Snap 45 

13. Grass of Parnassus 47 

14. Witch Hazel 52 

15. Trailing Arbutus 55 

16. To a Humming-Bird 57 

17. A Sylvan Symphony 59 

FLORIDA FANCIES. 

18. Winter Wooings 62 

19. Water Bewitched 64 

20. The Cherokee Rose 67 

21. To Alma in April 69 

22. The Naughty Nixie 73 

23. The Heavens Below 75 

24. The Romance of the Roses 76 

25. Beau Butterfly. 78 

26. With a Fan to Fickle Fanny . 82 

3 



4 Contents. 

27. Virtue Unrewarded 86 

28. Fickle Fifteen 88 

29. To a Juvenile Juliette 90 

30. Wrinkles versus Roses 93 

GOLDEN TIDE. 

31. The Sage of Sunny-Side - 95 

32. Saint Sunny-Heart's Shrine 97 

33. Light-Heart Harry 101 

34. A Lover of " Good Things " 105 

35. To Silenus 108 

36. The Jolly old King of Yvetot Ill 

37. The Watering of the Shamrock 116 

38. True Love Runs Always Smoothly 119 

39. The Squire's Quest 123 

40. Lachrymae Christi 126 

41. Love and Folly 129 

42. To Maecenas 132 

43. The Tippler's Test 136 

ROSES AND RUE. 

44. Love's Starlit Noon 140 

45. That Sweet Word " Ours ! " 142 

46. Crowned Slaves 147 

47. Lovers' Quarrels 148 

48. Epiphytes 150 

49. Dark Eyes and Hours 151 

50. More Prudisli than Prudent 152 

51. Immortelles 153 

52. Prim-rose 155 

53. Brown Eyes and Blue 156 

54. Love's Merry War 159 

55. Love and Strife 160 

56. A Puzzle in Petticoats 163 

57. The Violet's Appeal 167 



Contents. 5 

58. Limited Liabilities 169 

59. To Brunetta 173 

60. Cupid in Ciiaius 176 

THE GLOAMING. 

61. Love Hopeless 180 

62. Love and Jealousy 182 

63. Impatient 186 

64. A Contented Cynic 189 

65. Sold Out 191 

66. Thorns of Roses 194 

67. Hearts Crucified 196 

68. To Linette 197 

69. No Admittance 200 

70. Two of a Kind 201 

71. A Thievish Grace 203 

72. A Song of Silence 206 

73. Oblivion 209 

74. April and December 211 

GLEANINGS. 

75. Mansour the Miser 214 

76. Harold Fair-Hair 221 

77. The Blossom's Boast 223 

78. The Shabby Genteel 225 

79. The Four Heralds of Spring 228 

80. The Gipsy's Guess 232 

81. The Vase and the Virtuoso 234 

82. Christmas after War 236 

83. The Sea's Smiles and Sighs 239 

84. The Tempest's Test ... 241 

85. The " Swallow's Nest " 242 

86. The New World 244 



SONGS OF THE SAHK0HNAGA8. 



Ube Xe^euD of Iberbert's Spring-* 

Where Kiillasaja^s crystal founts first leap, 
Southward not far stands fair Satula's steep, 
Thence northeast, lo ! — a mountain Monarch 

frowns. 
His cres.t still green, though russet grays and 

browns 
And purpling shadows touch the giddy heights. 
Where Isundayga's precipices catch the lights 
Of saifron dawns. 

Our ridgy realm unrolled 
Shows not one other summit — half as bold 

■'^ Kullasaja and Satoola, near Highlands, Macon Co.; 
Isundayga, the grand precipice of "White-Sides Mt.; 
Yonahlossee, the Grandfather Mt. ; Salola is Sugar Loaf 
near Hendersonville, No. Car. ; Sahkohnagas, the great 
Blue Ridge range ; Tenniseeta is Little Tennessee 
River ; Toxaway is Great Hog Back near Sapphire ; and 
Cashiers Valley lies west of Chimney Top (Kayoo 
ianta). 



8 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

As this ^^ Old Stonewall/' Facing eas.t — it 

towers 
Above Cliatooga's forestry and Cashier's fields 

of flowers. . 
In all the leafy Over Hills of Ottaray, 
]^ot one to ma,tcli with Isundayga grim and 

gray :— 
l!^ot Linville's Towers, not the cliffs of Doe, — ■ 
'Nor w^here the Sachem's Head sees fair Saluda 

far below ; — 
Xot the bold cliffs that cradle Congaree 
That 'neath Salola's crags flows southward to 

the sea; 
'N'ot Yonahlossee, though his rocky crown 
Sends far Watauga's waters foaming down 
In dark ravines, where clustering pink and 

white, 
The rhododendron blooms star all the leafy 

night ;— 
Nor yet sharp Kayoolanta, whose bold belfry 

flings 
Its morning shadows on fair Cashier's springs. 



"Eastward the billowy ridges of blue Toxaway, 
That hides a " Sapphire " in his heart to-day, 
And laves his feet in lakelets that declare 



The Legend of Herbert's Spring. 9 

The Heaven's glory ever mirored there ; 
Westward the Xantahajlehs, and the near 

Cowees 
That toss their summits like tumultuous seas; 
Between these two, — Sahkohnaga's blue walls 
Hearkening the married murmurs of Chatoo- 

ga's falls, 
Where Isundayga's sovereign summit stands, 
Rock-crested Monarch of these Leafy Lands. 
Here in a glen, where foliage — flower and fern 
Roof with tints — green or gay — the bickering- 
burn. 
Hides Herbert's Spring, whose waters westward 

flow 
To where the Tenniseeta, in green vales below, 
Bears generous tribute — not lean stinted alms — 
To .that far West — where flows the stream of 

Palms, 
Whose waters, widening slowly to deep Seas 
Belt with their billows all the Antilles. 

The wanderer who passes here by chance, 
Hunter or Traj^jDer, ere he sees the glance 
Of these clear waters', or their rippling flow, 
Hears in these sylvan wilds a Fairy Bugle 
blow. 



10 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Sweet as the echoes of remembered song 
Ere love and loss had tangled right and wrong, 
The ringing notes — now distant and now near — 
Like Inllabies of childhood charm ,tlie listening 

ear, 
Like songs of Sirens on the silvering seas, 
Allure him step by stop through thickening 

trees, — 
Over the ridges, down the dark ravines,- 
From crest ,to crest, — until he wearied leans 
Above a Fountain's brink; and in its depths — 

behold ! 
A IN^ew World mirrored. 

Fairer skies unrolled, 
Bosomed like Goddesses blue mountains show, 
And valleys — blossom braided — sleep below 
Where winding rivers — that a forest girds — • 
Dance to the music of a thousand birds. 
A thousand pictured scenes revolving pass 
Across its bosom ; and in this clear glass — 
This Magic Mirror, whose reflections bring 
Even to Winter frosts the flowers of fadeless 

Spring,— 
Lo ! should he love — a fairer face there peeps 
From out the darkness of these dimpled 

deeps ; — 



The Legend of Herbert's Spring. ii 

A face so fair, with lips of rose, and eyes, 

So wonderful, that every old love dies, 

And this new passion thrills him through and 

through. 
Recalls no longer Home, or those he knew. 
His past life fading like forgotten dreams; 
The wider World, and all its cares and 

schemes — 
Xot blur'd — but blotted out ; no Yesterday, 
To-morrow dimly visioned, but Hope's sway 
To-day triumphant; and .the Present's Wall 
Prisons his soul. 

He lives the thrall 
Of these bewitching waters, and their spells 

shall hold 
For seven sweet years of dulcet dreamings, that 

though false 
Yet bring no tears or tempests. Hope never 

halts, 
And Doubt lies dead. 

So long, through Winter's cold 
And Summer's heat, in these w^ild woods he 

roves, 
Climbs the bold crests and threads the embow- 
ered groves, 



12 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Seeking this ^' Loltee " of the Highlands, this 

fair witch 
Who now the Fountain holds — and now some 

rocky niche. * 
Ever so soft and sweet, now near — now far. 
She calls to him from summits gray, — from 

cliff or scar ; 
Or, hidden shyly in June's leafy bowers. 
Whispers him hope from the unfolding flowers ; 
Woos him with glances from the cascade's snow. 
Beckoning with waving hands where blossoms 

blow, 
Sings him glad songs tha.t m.ake his pulses leap, 
And w^hen night darkens kissed his eyes to sleep. 

Each night he dreams her rosy lips close 

pressed. 
Each morn renews the eager, endless quest ; 
Yet, not unhappy, for this witching draught. 
If only once in all the seven years deeply 

quaffed, 
Eires his blood with such unwonted life — 
Hope never fails him, through the stress and 

strife 
Of daily struggles wath the wilderness. 
The Winter's snow^ fades fast before one melting 

kiss 



The Legend of Herbert's Spring. 13 

Laid on his lips in slumber j and the summer 

seems 
A golden Eden, where — half lost in dreams — 
He climbs blue peaks, hearing her wooing calls 
In the warm breath of winds and songs of water- 
falls. 
In every woodland there are bridal bowers, 
Her flying footsteps bend the fern, and in fair 

flowers 
He finds the fragrance of her breath, and in the 

skies 
Sees the soft azure of her glorious eyes. 



So seven years the Wanderer ever roves 

From crest to crest, — 

Through all the glens and groves; 

Day after day climbs leafy spurs and lifted 

spires ; 
His heart beats high, his footstep never tires. 
Confidir.g, as a child, he knows no sorrow, 
For if To-day brings failure — there's a fair 

To-morrow ; 
And this fond Witch, who kissed his lips last 

nio'ht, 
Shall break like morning on his dazzled sight, 



14 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

In her white arms shall hold him fast, and melt 
His soul with blisses mortals never felt. 



Of his Dead Past no faintest whisper stirs ; 
Couched on dark crags benea.th the dusk of firs, 
He sees afar the valleys once his Home, 
Yet now recalls no paths he used to roam ; 
Old Loves — ^old Losses — leave no faintest 

mark ; 
Cares only for this luring Loltee's fickle kiss, 
And finds in these bewi.tching dreams a dearer 

bliss 
Than ever mortal maiden's fond rendition 
That ripened into full fruition. 

So seven years of dulcet, dazzling dreams. 
Of wanderings by the banks of lapsing streams 
And on ,the brows of lifted peaks : — then slum- 
ber deep 
For seven days, when slow the circling shadows 

creep. 
And not one star — not one stray sunbeam 

brings 
To the lost soul the shape of Earthly things. 
Then an awakening, slow and soft aS' when 
On long numbed wits fair Reason daw^ns again ; 



The Legend of Herbert's Spring. 15 

And one bj one, old loves, and older hopes 
Return like penitents ; and strengthening Mem- 
ory gropes 
Her way back lamely, — step by step, and sees 
At last the old landmarks, hears forgotten 

pleas. 
The hearthstone flames again, whisper sealed 

lips. 
Hearts beat once more — long lost in dark 
eclipse. 

Then the lost Wanderer — wondering — ;turns 

slowly back 
To search through forest mazes for the long lost 

track ; 
Through cloud and sunshine, — half in joy — 

half tears, — 
Faces once more the long forgotten years. 
And finds perhaps in some fond maiden's arms 
S.till lures to win him from the rosy charms 
Of that fair Witch, whose wooing, winsome 

face, — 
Whose flowery lips — whose magic — and whose 

grace. 
Whatever life brings, — of sunny joy or sad 

regret, — 
His dreaming soul shall never quite forget! 



i6 Songs of the Salikohnagas. 



/IDp pearl of pacolett ! 

Down by pebbly Pacolett where the Kalmias 
cluster, 

And the cascade's mel.ting mists catch the rain- 
bow's luster, 

Sits a dainty mountain maiden — curtained 
close by leaves, 

By the shadows half-way hidden that the Rho- 
dodendron weaves. 

Round about her tresses a golden halo swims, 
"Whiter than the lily buds are her lissome limbs. 
Bluer than the gentian tips gleam her sunny 

eyes. 
Far too rosy are her lips e'er to mate wi.th sighs. 

There she sits and suns herself in an amorous 

ray 
That hath wandered to ,these depths from the 

upper day; 
And this rosy harbinger of love's warmer glow 
I^^isses first her dimpled cheeks, then — her bost- 

om's snow. 



My Pearl of Pacolett. 17 

Soft the sunlight toiichos her with a wand of 

gold, 
Whilst the breezes whisper shyly tales the 

flowers told ; 
And she first looks up and laughs, .then looks 

down and sighs : 
Something learned of late by heart makes her 

feel — so wise. 

Far too wise for flippancies, far too glad for 
tears, 

Whilst she numbers solemnly — all her Sixteen 
years ; 

Counts the flowery Aprils over since those ear- 
lier Springs 

AYhen Life's beckoning blisses lent, her light 
heart errant wings. 

Thus she sits and memories scarcely twelve- 

hours' old 
Kound about her budding breasts like glad arms 

enfold ; 
And she hears the murmurings soft of the busy 

breeze 

Whispering loving prophecies to the listening 

trees. 
2 



1 8 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Purest Pearl of Pacolett, wlia.t is then your 

dream ? 
Down the tides that foam and fret, borne upon 

the stream, 
Lo ! the Fairy of the Falls, in a white canoe. 
Glides above the mill^y mists — beckoning to 

you. 

He crowns your curls with Kalmias paler than 
your cheek. 

With cold kisses makes you dumb — though yoa 
fain would speak ; 

Veils with jealous mists your charms, lays your 
dainty limbs 

On a couch in gro.tto lonely that eternal dark- 
ness dims. 



Bears you from these sunny skies to the depths 

below. 
And your bosom's blossoms turn cold and white 

as snow ; 
Your sweet lips forget to laugh, and your heart 

to dream : 
Lo! your bridal bed a bier — shadowed by the 

stream 



My Pearl of Pacolett. 19 

'J'ben the Fairy of the Falls lays his finger tips 
Lightly on the fading petals of your flower-like 

lipsi; 
Like a lily maiden sinking in a marble sleep, 
Soft and silent there you lie, whils.t your lovers 

weep. 

Nay! my Pearl of Pacolett, not all the Fairy 

Kings, 
Though they led their legions onward waving 

rainbow'd wrings. 
Though they launched the leaping thunder from 

Heaven's darkening dome. 
Sweetest, should not whelm you under flash of 

fire and foam. 

Xot a mist-made shadow gliding through the 
treacherous gloom 

Lays warm lips persuasive on your cheek's re- 
turning bloom, 

\ad ,the arms that hold you boldly — bear you 
to no bier : — 

Hark ! the breezes whisper stories that the blos- 
soms blush to hear. 

Hide your ripening roses, sweetest, close within 
my arms; 



20 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Love alone, Our Lord, uncloses here the casket 

of your charm SI ; 
Whilst the snowy foam is falling, and the milky 

mist upcurls, 
In the Summer's starlit gloaming — I have 

found my Pearl of Pearls. 

Koofed by Rhododendron blooms, fenced about 

with flowers, 
Here for my heart's lady-love Cupid weaves his 

bowers ; 
iVnd whilst mists are rising softly where the 

streamlets fret, 
Love unlocks thy heart's rich casket. Pearl of 
Pacolett. 



The Svvannanoa River, No. Ca. 21 



TLbc Swannanoa IRiver, IRo, Ca. 

.''air Xympli, whose mossy cradle lies, 

By dusky hemlocks hidden, 
Near rocky crests that court the skies, 

Yet not by storms imchidden ; — 
Could Fancy weave on Fairy looms 

Such loveliness as dowers 
The Mountain Ivy's dimpled blooms, — 

The Laurel's freckled flowers? 

And these are but .thy birthday gifts. 

E'er yet beneath the bracken 
The foam-flakes, white as Winter's drifts. 

Their hurrying currents slacken 
To slower pace, as maidens do. 

Who will not fly — though fearing; 
And thou beginst to linger, too, 

By cabin and by clearing. 

Above, from many a crag and scarp 
Thy torrents leaped in laughter ; 
Soft as some far ^Folian harp — 



^2 Songs of the SahkohnagaS. 

One heard sweet echoings after; 

And where the Lash-horn's dusky spears* 
The rocky ridges fretted, 

With sunny smiles and stormy tears, 

Thy fickle streams coquetted. 

But here, where Chestnut's creamy plumes 

Whiten the winding hollow. 
And golden-rods or grassy glumes 

The rambling roadside follow. 
These woodland ways are banished quite; 

She moves along sedately, 
]^o nimble !N'ymph in frolic flight, 

But steadier — almost stately. 

Near her tall Elms and Sycamores, 

The Valley's queen attending. 
Above the curves of pebbly shores 

Their leafy limbs are bending; 
But though the envious woodlands still 

May hide her from some lover. 
She bares her bosom with a thrill 

To the broad skies above her. 

« 

* " Lash-horn," very descriptive name of the Vir- 
ginia Mountaineer's near Wliite-top (Kauna5'rock) for 
the *' balsam "or " spruce." The French Broad (Zeh- 
leeka) is the " Racing River." 



The Swannanoa River, No. Ca. 23 

The rocky crests are far above 

Where Laurel thickets darken, 
Below are valleys where young Love 

Finds hearts that heed and hearken; 
Tempestuous toil and tumult past, 

Lo ! on her bosom sleeping, 
The smiling skies look down at last; 

There Heaven som^e tryst seems keeping. 

Born where the dusky " balsams '' frown, 

Where .the cloud-wrack gathers dimly. 
And the cascade's showers come leaping down 

From gray crests rising grimly ; 
Between the Blue Ridge and The Blacks 

Fair Swannanoah finds her fountains; 
For ten good miles she never slacks, 

But slips past half a dozen mountains : 

Past a good score of cabins runs, 

By fifty fields and fifty fallows. 
Yet still half-hid from summer suns 

With deeper flow or wider shallows; 
At last her stainless tribute brings. 

With many a sigh and quiver. 
As a maiden who half sighs — half sings, 

When she weds the ^^ Racing River.'' 



24 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



lue B^es of IRantaba^leb ! * 

" Blue Eyes '' of " I^antahayleh," 

These blossoms blooming fair 
When September days dawn grayly, 

And the mountain beeches bare ; 
The vales and valleys under, 

Though still leafed, begin to show 
Faint glimpses of the wonder 

Of the woods, — when all aglow 

With the touch of Autumn's fires: — 

Glint of crimson — gleam of gold, 
And about the Alpine spires 

Soft the sunlit mists are rolled. 
E'er October's frosts grow bitter, — 

E'er ^Rovember winds blow bleak, — 
^^Hiere the golden-rods still glitter 

On the prairies of the peak ; 

* This mountain group in Western North Carolina 
attains to about 5,500 feet. On their summits in Sep- 
tember flowers the Fringed Gentian. 



Blue Eyes of N^antahayleh. 25 



j> 



On the mountain meadows spreading 

From the '' Wajah '' to the '' Wine,' 
Thougli the beech its brown leaves shedding, 

Softly fringed, these '^ Bine Eyes " shine : — 
^' Blue Eyes" of " Xantahayleh," 

Opening here in flowery guise. 
Drinking in the sunlight daily, — 

Filled with secrets of the skies. 

Can your lassies show me bluer 

When I kiss their rosy lips ? 
Can your ladies show me truer 

When Life's hopes are in eclipse ? 
Nay ! I'll trust these " Blue Eyes " blooming 

Spite of leaf-fall and of frost : — 
Though the grayest shadows glooming, 

These tell us Hope's not los't. 

When ^^Blue Eyes" of '^ IS^antahayleh " 

To the dark days beauty bring, 
I read prophecies tha,t gaily 

Predict the deathless Spring: — 
After the Autumn's fading, 

After the snowflakes fall. 
Comes Hope — the blind heart aiding, 

Comes Love — the Best of all. 



26 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

" Blue Eyes '' of '' Kantahayleh/^ 

With fringed lids — opening shy, 
^' Blue Eyes '' that peep out gaily 

Through clouds to yonder sky; 
Fair signs and tokens given 

To show how Nature gives : — 
The Soul that loves is shriven, 

The heart that hungers lives! 



The " Wine Spring." 27 



Where ^' Xantahayleh's " billows- rise 
In close cammunion with the skies, 
A dimpled dell the forest folds 
That at its heart a fountain holds, 
Whose waters sparkle like the draught 
That sometimes turns a tippler daft ; 
For here despite the Winter's frost 
That even June hath not quite lost, — 
Some wooing Witch hath laid soft spells 
On every dazzling drop that ^'ells. 

Worn wanderers from the narrow streets 

Who fly the city's burning heats. 

And seek the welcome of these heights, 

The Highland's temperate days and nights; 

After a climb of two good leagues 

Forget their struggles and fatigues, 

Whilst here beneath the cloudless blue, 

They sip these draughts of " Mountain Dew." 

* The " Wine Spring" is at elevation of over 5,000 feet 
near crest of one of the Nantahayleh *' balds," Macon 
County, No. Car. 



28 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

No Mrenads goldei: goblets fill, 

With fiery poison from the still, 

Yet if the bubbling bliss you quaff 

The saddest soul should learn to laugh; 

The heart, to Hope a stranger long, 

Shall sing again a Summer song; 

The lips that sighed shall smile once more, 

And kisses ' come — denied before. 

'Not grapes that gild the castled Rhine 

When soft September's sunbeams shine, 

N^or ruddier vintages of France 

That lead the Loves a merry dance; 

jNTor richer draughts from sunny Spain, 

I^or '' Chris.t's Tears " from the Roman plain, 

Shall send such subtle fires through 

Your languid veins, as this clear dew, 

Dipp'd in a hallowed leaf fom this 

Cool spring the morning cloudlets kiss. 

And as you sip the liquid pearls, 
Look down and see your lassie's curls. 
Her eyes of blue — her lips of rose 
Reflected where this fountain flows ; 
And if you'd learn this spring's full power 
Pluck from its brink the gentian flower, 
Whose blue eyes — half closed, as is meet — 



The '' Wine Spring." 29 

Give happy hints to hearts discreet ; 
For, if you would not break the spell, 
Kiss as you please — but — never tell. 

If thus, with her you love the best, 
For this fair fountain you make quest, 
If thus together on its brink 
You bend and from leafed cuplets drink, 
Its sparkling draughts I know shall thrill 
More sweetly than the wines that fill 
The brimming bumpers that a King 
Might give to Lords who tribute bring : 
For love is here the liberal host, 
And lovers — guests he likes the most. 

This spring that in these forest gloom 
Gleams starlike under ferny plumes. 
Gives draughts so full of subtle fire — 
Despite its frost — to wake desire. 
And woo back Hope from Eden's lost; 
That sad souls — tempest-torn and tossed— 
Nov7 savorino: the sweets of love 
Once mourned as dead, here couched abovo 
Where billowy summits softly kissed 
At sunrise by the morning mist, — 
As here with laughing lips they sing, — 
Call this Dan Cupid's " Tippling Spring.*' 



30 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Ube Siren ot Sacbem's fbeab ! 

(A Legend of Cwsars Head, South Carolina.) 

Where clear Saluda first leaps out 

From tufts of Blue-Kidge bracken, 
With ripplings that both smile and pout 

For leagues before they slacken ; 
Where grape-vines flaunt their greenest flags 

Above the woodland spires, 
Rise gray and grim Tahnohla^s crags, — 

Facing Day's dying fires. 

Its massive frontage, like the face 

Of warrior gray and hoary, 
Lends a grim weirdness .to the place 

With echoes of old story; — 
Above, a scalp-lock of dark pines, — 

Below, a front of granite — 
Rugged and wrinkled in its lines, — 

Fierce frowning as you scan it. 
Yet seem these slopes of billowy green 

Unchanged by snows or summers. 
As leafy as of old when seen 



The Siren of Sachem's Head. 31 

By those long-lost First-comers 
Who, voyaging from far shores, beheld, 

In years that none remember, 
This brow of rock, as old as Eld, 

Flushed by the sunset's ember. 

In those first fiery days of Earth 

A warrior chief, titanic, 
Still lusty with primeval birth. 

And pulsed by veins volcanic, 
Ruled o'er this dim deserted Land, 

Where eddying storm-clouds drifted, 
A pine-tree scepter in his hand 

Above the vales uplifted. 

But with the ages that have flowTi, 

The snows of many winters, 
The old-time Sachem's granite throne 

Has crumbled into splinters'; 
Stone-blind and gray with countless years, 

We now may safely beard him. 
Though once he launched such fiery spears 

That all the Titans feared him. 

But now the Fairies in the fern 
Above his brow hold revels, 



32 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

And buried deep in caverns stern 

Lie locked his stormy devils; 
Whilst at his feet, Alta, dusk-ejed, 

A nut-brown Indian Lorey, 
Hath lured a thousand hearts aside 

Since first she told her story. 

Hath lured them on with starry eyes, 

And lulled them into slumber 
With subtle smiles and soothing sighs', 

Whilst Life grew numb and number; 
And where Saluda silvering gleams 

Beneath her woodland covers, 
Lost in a Land of endless Dreams, 

Lie all her drowsy lovers. 

Ware Witch ! who lures her lovers so ; — 

What help for those who love thee? 
The woods are dark as night below, 

Dim shine .the stars above thee; 
Thy loves know neither hopes nor schemes, 

Long lost both rut and reckoning; 
Lo! opens wide the gate of Dreams, 

Where Alta's self stands beckoning. 

Her eyes are like the stars of eve 
From cloudy coverts shining ; 



The Siren of Sachem's Head. 33 

With waving hands such spells she'll weave 

(All lovers' dreams divining), 
That those who pause to scan the deep 

Beneath Tahxohla^s precipices, 
Are lured to take the dizzy leap, 

Betrayed by Alta's cruel kisses. 
3 



34 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



ffrom Billow to Mvoo\\ . 

These limpid and laughing waters 

Run gushing and gurgling in glee^ 
Making music as sweet as the daughters 

Of Kerens e'er sang to the Sea : — 
Yea ! sweeter and softer ; they bring us 

'No echoes of tempests and tears ; 
The songs of our childhood they sing us; 

Refrains from the best of life's years. 

Here under the shade of these willows 

That bend their light branches across, 

There is never the thunder of billows 
To tell us of shipwreck and loss; 

No depths that shall whelm us far under, 

No pitiless surges that rise, 

Mid the darkness and echoing thunder, 

With their stormy crests threatening the 
skies. 

"No treacherous tides to deceive us 

With the counterfeit semblance of rest. 

Like false lips that but lure us to grieve us 
With hopes that are barren at best. 



From Billow to Brook. 35 

Here sweet sing the birdlings above us, 

Fair foliage weaves sunshine with shade ; 

If ripples allure — they but love us, 
And whisper it shyly — afraid: 

Afraid as a maid that doth hearken 

With blushes to love first confessed, 
Yet — if shadows discreetly should darken — 

Would clasp thy fond heart to her breast. 
! this is the brooklet that bubbles 

And yearns for the touch of thy limbs; 
A ^ymph who will soothe all thy troubles 

As she. yields to thy wishes or whim 

Plunge in ! and the ripples around thee 

Will circle and dance in their glee, 
And bubble wi.th bliss that they've found thee 

And rescued thy Soul from the Sea: 
From the Sea — with its tempests and terrors — 

From the Sea with its death i.nd despair : — 
Confess to the ^ymph all thy errors, — 

Thy wooing of Mermaids, whose hair 
Streamed like sunbeams above the white beaches 

Fringed with foam fair as bo&oms con- 
fessed ; 
She will listen, and tenderness teaches 

The penitence Beauty loves best. 



36 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Around thee her crystal tide gushes, 
Above thee her leafy boughs bend ; 

She crowns thee with lilies and rushes, 
And welcomes a lover and friend. 

The Mermaids are fickle and faithless, 

They lure thee with laughter and song. 
But he that believes them, not scatheless 

Shall he trust to their tenderness long! 
O ! Nymph of the Brooklet receive me 

In thy grot where ripples whisper in glee; 
Thou would'st never first lure and then leave me 

As I have been left — by the Sea. 

I have left far behind me the billows 

In search of the brook. ets that run, 
Fringed with feathering foliage of willows. 

Half hidden away from the sun. 
The Sea's treacherous Siren betrayed me. 

Wrecked my shallop where fierce surges 
toss, 
But the Nymph of the Brooklet shall aid me 

In her arms to forget the old loss. 



The Snowdrop Maidens. 37 



Ube Snowdrop /II>ai&ens ! 

The Snowdrop ^laidens dance to-day 

Where shadows' are glooming and skies are 

gray ; 
When woods are leafless and fields are brown 
The Snow^-Maid weareth her wdiitest gown ; 
In her streaming tresses — by wild winds 

tossed — 
Like stars of silver gleam flowers of frost. 

When you meet these white Maids of Astolat 
Put on your muffler and pull down your hat ; 
But these lih^ ladies wdio'd care to woo, — 
With their pallid cheeks and their noses blue ? 
Xot a nice time — but an ice tim^e — thA^ ; 
Less charm than chill — in a Snow^-Maid's kiss. 

Ay, chi Jy the charms of the Snow^drop Maid ; 
She shivers in sunlight and loves the shade; 
On her pallid cheeks no roses bloom, — 
Tlie Home she haunts is a House of Gloom: — 
On the craggy peaks wdiere the clouds hang low, 
She dances but faster when the ice-winds blow. 

See up yonder, through the shadows grim 



38 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Where the fir-capp'd summits loom dark and 

dim; 
Under a sky where no sunbeam sifts, 
Over the snow as it deepening drifts, 
Lo! — come the Snowdrop Maidens all, 
Dancing down at the White Wind's call. 

Under the boughs of a leafless tree, [me; 

See ! — the Snowdrop Maidens are beckoning 
Down in the glens where the dumb brooks bide. 
Coyly and cooly the wdiite wdtches hide ; 
High above — where the white crests show. 
Dance the lily ladies in robes of snow. 

Fair may the Snowdrop Maidens be. 
But your lily-white ladies too cool for me; 
Better than shadows and sunless gloom 
The gardens gay where the rosebuds bloom ; 
These Wintry Witches, — where the clouds hang 

gray, 
Are w^eaving shrouds for the world to-day ! 

But in a furled bud closely pent — 

(Sweet prophecies by the glad Gods sent — ) 

Where the dusky mountain laurel grows, — 

Lurks a tender blush under veiling snow&; 

Shyly hidden, as is Love's way. 

Sleeping — not dead — the s^veet soul of MAY ! 



The Songs that Need no Words. 39 



Ubc Boms tbat IReeb no /IDorbs* 

Bedded on ferns and moss I He, 

Through the leaves above me a glimpse of sky 

Blue as the gentians in yonder nook 

Where boughs bend over the brawling brook. 

Behold the beauties I laud and love, 
Ferns golden under, green leaves above, 
And through this vista far — far — away 
Clouds capping the billows of blue to-day. 

And never a sound in the woodlands wake 
Save the whisperings soft that the breezes 

make ; 
The brooklet's murmur, — the chirp of birds, 
And these are the songs that need no words. 

The sigh of the winds, the chant of the seas, 
The fragrance of flowers, the verdure of trees. 
The blue of the skies, the glow of the sun, 
I love them always and every one. 



40 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

IN'earer to Nature let me stand, 

Heart to heart, and hand in hand, 

Like friend and lover — merged both in one 

From season to season, from sun to sun. 

Not married and harried as some folks are, 
Not severed and sundered, as star from star, 
But close and clinging as doth the Rose 
When its hundred separate petals close. 

One — ^yet many, about the core 

Of the honeyed bliss Love keeps in store. 

Hiving happiness from May to May 

Lest the garnered sweets should fail some day; 

Drinking deeply into glad lives. 
The harvests sweet of a thousand hiveS', 
So that no famine, when blooms are shed, 
Could starve blind souls and leave Love dead. 

The babbling of brooks, the breath of the breeze. 
The murmur of pines and the sounding of seas. 
The fluttering of wings, and the fluting of birds, 
Ah ! these are .the Songs that need no Words ! 



The Oracles of May. 41 



XTbe ©racks ot /lDa^» 

E'ee Pan his syrinx sets in tune 
To pipe the lays of jovial June, 
Comes that fair season May begets,- 
The gladsome Month of Violets. 



Fancy — more fickle — is April's o^vn, 
But loyal Love we now enthrone, 
And with sweet blossoms crown him King 
Of this last — loveliest Month of Spring. 



These flowery oracles — though mute- 
To Faith still prophesy of Fruit, — 
To sate the lips of those content 
To wait on helpings heaven-sent. 



So, too, the unlearned lips that felt 
To-day Hope's earliest kisses melt 
Upon them timidly, in days to come 
You'll find less diffident and dumb. 



42 . Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Tlie Heart in May that opens first, — 
A cradled blossom — coyly nursed, — 
Shall ripen into radiance soon 
Beneath the warmer skies of June. 



And ere the miracle is told 
Of brave September's garnered Gold, 
Love, too, although he never farms. 
Shall hold Hope's harvest in his arms. 



The Autumnal Harlequin. 43 



Ubc Hutumual Ibariequtm 

(Fall in the Over-hills of Ottaray.) 

The leafage daily grows more thin, 

Winds scatter wide the woodland's gold 

That any pauper's hand may hold; — 

Fair gifts the latest comers win. 

Ah ! when October's days slip in — 

I half forget I'm growing old; 

Again Love's litanies are told, — 

Lost chances seem the only sin. 

Here come my Dryads disarray'd. 

Disheveled as some ravished maid, 

Blnshing, but ready to begin 

A giddy dance — unzoned — unstayed — 

With that Last Love — a '^ Reveler Strayed,"- 

In happy fields : — Fall's Harlequin. 

Ah! the Autumn is .the season 
That I always love the best ; 
It is good for song and jest: — 
To be sour seems a .treason 



44 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

To the month when grapes are pressed. 

And a bachelor may seize on 

Any day — a special reason 

When his sins shall be confessed ; — 

]^ot to any shaven priest — 

But some maiden, who at least 

Loves some sinner. 

Make the Sacrament a Feast ; 

Buss the Beauty, ban the Beast,- 

And you'll win her ! 

In the merry month — October — 
Let our revelries begin: — 
See ! — the Satyrs all a-grin, 
And the woodlands none too sober. 
^N'aked j^ymphs are chatting gaily 
By the fountains as they flow, 
And the Dryads laughing show 
Their limbs more clearly daily. 
Every day she smiles less shyly, — 
Glances every day more slyly — 
Does this darling — we would win:- 
Leaf by leaf we'll softly strip her, 
'Not a shift left — nor a slipper — 
When she hugs bold Harlequin. 



A Cold Snap. 45 



B Colt) Snap* 

The purpling trees danced to a breeze 

That was not cold — but cooling; 

The grass was green — a springlike scene- 



Though irarch' — not May — was ruling. 

The Southern Sun his best had done 

To warm the winds and dust 'em ; 

The Oaks — tho' tough — were green enough. 

In spit€ of March, to trust 'em. 

On every side with daisies pied 

And dandelions glittering, — 

The fields were gay, blue skies to-daj, 

Bland airs and birds all twittering : 

But bide a bit, the end of it 

Perhaps you'll see to-morrow ; — 

The " greenest " trees suspect a ^^ freeze," — 

Flowers hang their heads in sorrow. 

The " mercury " drops and blights the crops ; 

Despite old scars and schooling. 

We trust Jack Frost, and to our cost 



46 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. ^ 

I 



Learn lie was " April Fooling " ; — 

'Tis tlius with Love, who — hand and glove — 



With Truth affects to travel; 

Through all our schemes he w^eaves bright 

dreams 
He swears Avill ne'er unravel. 

But bide a bit — the end of it; 

The Winter's not yet over, 

And butterflies who trust his lies — 

Will hardly — " live in clover " ; 

The maid that erst your fancies nursed, 

And gave you ready schooling, 

Grown curt and cold, begins to scold: — 

Her warmth was — '^ April Fooling " I 



Grass of Parnassus. 47 



Grass of Parnassus. 

(Parnassia.) 

O ! PALLID white stars of September, 
Peeping out of the dusk of the glades 
Where Lobelias, that burn like an ember, 
Fleck with scarlet the flickering shades 
Of the woodland; there — down in the hollows, 
Half hidden by feathering ferns, 
The Grass of Parnassus close follows 
Green banks of the brooklets and burns. 

AMien in mizzling and misty October 
The frosts are gladdened with gold, 
E'er the later days sadden and sober 
With russet-tints — cheerless and cold — 
The chestnuts and oak; in close covers, 
Xear the ripples roofed over with vines. 
Coyly hidden away from her lovers, 
Parnassia's Star twinkles and shines. 

What blossom more dainty than this is, 
With its petals of pearl veined with green ? 



48 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

It hides from the sun's burning kisses, 

Like a star through the cloud-drifts half seen 

In the twilight ; — a star that shall guide us 

Away from the Cities of Sin 

To the bowery byways that hide us 

From the world with its dust and its din. 

O brothers ! These whi.te stars that glimmer 
Like a milky-way fringing the brooks, 
That under the green and gold shimmer, 
Can teach us far more than the books 
Of priests or professors ; — come listen 
To the lore that I learn from their leaves ; 
These blooms, that like tender eyes glisten. 
Have their tales to tell, too, like the Sheaves 

But a tale not of travail and labor, 
'Not of harvests half-choked with the .tares, 
TsTot of strife between neighbor and neighbor, 
^ot of sordid and narrowing cares 
That our lives with grim shadows environ ; 
But prophesies glad from Above ; 
Brooks sing sweeter songs than a Siren ; 
Blossoms teach us contentment and love. 

Keep thy " laurels," O Peak of Parnassu 
For sad brows that are furrowed by frowns ; 



Grass of Parnassus. 49 

Though Fame and her Lackeys should pass us, 
And rate us too rustic for crowns, 
Whether golden or gilded ; — what matters 
The sneers of a world where Hates hiss ? 
See ! Autumn her golden gifts scatters, 
And Love finds a blossom — like this: 

A blossom, if only the ^^ grasses '' 
That garland the Fountains we seek, 
Suits better our loves and our lassies 
Than tlie " laurels " that darken thy Peak. 
Let thy Lords and thy Laureats scramble, — 
Excelsior! — still their device; — 
Below — far more safely I ramble, 
!N^or envy your honors on ice. 

Thy Peaks, with their grandeurs und glories^ 

Are barren and rocky and cold ; 

T read brighter hopes — sweeter stories — 

In the leaves of these blossoms that hold 

In their hearts Heaven's uttermost meanings. 

Written down in just that sort of text 

That a lover who wastes no glad gleanings. 

Would learn from lips shyly perplexed. 

There's a time for the sowing and reaping 
Of the harvests Plenty pours from her horns ; 
4 



So Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

There's a time for sad watching and weeping, — 

For the gathering of Thistles and Thorns 

That follow the Furrow ; but Heaven, 

In nooks we can find if we will, 

Keeps Love, — Beauty and Hope as a leaven, — 

Sweet glimpses of Paradise still. 

O ! Grass of Parnassus star'd w^hitely 
AVith petals in whose veins are seen 
(Though the frosts of September fall lightly) 
The tints of fair April's glad green 
Faintly penciled ; — how often thy flowers 
Through the russets and browns — sad and sere. 
Have recalled the spring's sunniest hours, 
And revived with thy sweets the Old Year ! 

The Goldenrod gilds tlie wide fallows 
With the glint and the gleam of its spears, 
And down by the brook's pebbly shallows — 
Half hidden — the Gentian appears 
Tip'd with Heaven's own blue ; and gay asters 
Scatter widely their disks rayed and fringed, 
And here and there " Rattlesnake Masters," 
With their clustering cups orange tinged, 

Or fairer than frost-work ; and stately 
Liatris, with her sceptre aglow, 



Grass of Parnassus. 51 

Rises regally purple where lately 
We found the Anemone's snow; 
And the maples burn bright in the hollows, 
And the chestnuts turn gold on the hills, 
Though the Year hath forgotten Spring's swal- 
lows, 
And frosts soon shall fetter the rills. 

Yet the woods have tongues ready to whisper 

The secrets that Eden-Land held, 

And the winds, blowing crisper and crisper, 

Bring, like echoes, the stories of Eld ; 

Ah ! come to these shady recesses 

Where Parnassia's stars fitfully shine. 

And they'll whisper you all the soul's guesses 

Of the land and the lore that's divine. 

Here are Oracles deeper than Delphis, 

Yet ready, if studied aright, 

(For blooms Eairy tongues have and Elf eyes) 

To uncurtain the shadow^s of I^iglit, 

And show us beyond the Dark Portals, 

Whose lintels seem Death and Despair, 

The Hope and the Home of Immortals 

P Edens surpassingly fair. 



52 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Mitcb Ibasel! 

(Hcunamelis Virginica. ) 

By bickering brooks tbat babbling run 
From summits dim to vallej's dun, 
Half-hidden from November's sun 
By Leucotlioe's tresses green, 
There with bleak win,ter half begun, 
Witch Hazel's amber buds are seen. 

A dream of April midst the grays 
That gather round these Autumn days. 
When skies the bluest blur'd with haze. 
And winds of morn come sharp and crisp; 
Bent o'er the brooklet where it strays 
With lilt of rapids or ripples' lisp. 

Pale flowering of softest hue, 

As when across the Bending Blue, 

The slumberous shadows are shot through 

By sunbeams sifted doubly fine — 

From skies that sharpest frosts bestrew 

With clouds that seem to half divine 

The storms that Winter days shall bre"- 



Witch Hazel. 53 

Xo blaze of blossoms here unfold, 
But faintest fire of frosted gold 
On purpling stems that hardly hold 
One leaf unfingered by the frost ; 
No tale of Spring-time here is told: 
Witch Hazel buds when blooms are lost. 

When suns shine full and winds blow fair 
Luck laughs and Love seems debonair, 
Hope conquers Doubt — and Faith Despair, 
And friends are thick as blooms in Spring: 
These joys have all been ours to share 
When buds were ripe and birds would sing. 

!N^ow Summer's melting mood is past 
Se^Dtember's harvests ripened fast, 
And then October's gold at last 
That rusts to Autumn's russet gray; 
The winds are bleak — skies over cast. 
And cheerless Winter chides to-day. 

Yet now amid the woodlands gaunt 
That mournful memories ever haunt, 

Though the wild North-winds fiercely chaunt 

War-songs and wails of sunless Seas; 

Like some true friend — no fears can daunt, 

Amid the glooms of leafless trees ; 



54 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Fair as some sunbeam soft that slips 

Its sheath of cloud in storm's eclipse: 

Witch Hazel, where the brooklet trips, 

ForetellS' in flowers of pale gold, 

That though Death seals Love's flowering lips, 

New Springs shall follow on the old. 



The Trailing Arbutus. 55 



XTbe Urailtnc} Hrbutus! 

(Epigcea repens.) 

It looks so innocent and sliy, a timid blushing 
thing, 

As though it feared to face the sky or hearken 
to the Spring; 

The Spring, that with her dancing feet and rust- 
ling robes that play 

About her shoulders, — conies to greet the Dawn- 
ing of Love's Day: 

Love's Holiday, that April first brought veiled 

in shifting showers, 
That ends e'er July's fiery thirst hath parched 

June's drooping flowers. 
Of all the early buds that wake to welcome 

April's birth. 
What daintier blossom could I take in all this 

glad green earth ? 

N'one fairer; see these clustering gems of 
dainty white and pink, 



56 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Half hidden bj brown moss and stems upon the 

gray crag's brink; 
Arbutus, with her small pink ears laid close to 

Earth's brown breast, 
The Spring's first whispered coming hears, and 

teils it to the rest. 

Whilst still the rude winds roughly pass, and 

March ends bleak and chill, 
She hears the pulsing of the grass, — and feels 

the old roots thrill; 
E'er fickle April, weeping erst, begins anon to 

smile, 
Arbutus buds have told us first with blooms 

that ne'er beguile. 

Even though the feathery snow-flakes fell, — ^^the 
Dawns gray robed in gloom, 

We know at last that Winter's spell is broken by 
one bloom ; 

This rosy prophet of the Spring, cradled in leaf- 
less bowers, 

Heralds the coming of the King who wears a 
crown of Flowers. 



To a Humming-Bird. 57 



Uo a IbummiUG^BirC). 

From what far Isles of Antilles, — 

Across the blue and billowy seas 

Have those wings — whirring — borne thee hence, 

From land of palms to land of pines ; — 

Where even the noonday's sunlight shines 

In August with a coy pretense 

Of April airiness', — a hint 

That summer's noon unrisen yet? — 

Or mav be, that frail frosts shall fret 
Ere long the flowers that gleam and glint — 
To match the jewels of thy throat, — 
The gems that sparkle in thy crest. 
AMiere yonder blossoms blaze their best, 
A feathered rainbow seems to float 
On winglets poised, that in a whir 
Afifainst the leafage, — seem a blur, — 
A gossamer shot through with gold : 
With beak — (a Fairy's dagger this) — 
That dips into the honeyed bliss 
Of every bloom the dawns unfold. 



58 Songs of the Sahkolinagas. 

O ! birdling, when the bleak days come, 
And e\ ery lingering blossom grieves, 
Autumn's gold rustling in the leaves, — 
Brown thrushes in the thickets dumb: 
Canst thou not guide me, flight by flight, 
Athwart the leagues that lie betw^een, 
To tha,t fair Land, where Summer's sheen 
Girdles the months that know no blight. 



A Sylvian Symphony. 59 



H Silvan Sympboni^ ! 

This leafy forest is a world 

Quite wide enougli to liouse my heart ; 

And in this fragrant flower furled 

I find sweet salves to soothe Love's smart. 

A Dryad is my lady-love 

In leafy bowers biding; 

Soft coos above the purple dove 

Where winds are softly chiding 

The pines, that mid the leafy leas 

Still murmuring mourn for long lost Seas. 

In this hand's-breadth of mottled moss 
There's room enough for Love and Loss ; 
And every blossom's wind-kissed bell 
To fond hearts Love's sweet stories tell. 
In these soft silences, where delves 
The chipmunk, there are lurking elves ; 
Brownies, in curious caps and cowls, 
As wonderfully wise as owls; 
When the moon silvers sylvan bowers 
Fays slip from all the nodding flowers ; 



6o Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

And near the fountain's pebbly brink 
The Pinkies dance in Vv^hit€ and pink; — 
And Gnomes and Kobolds, Nixies fair, 
And Pixies, — ^fluttering everywhere. 
When owls are out, and bull-frogs croak, 
The woodlands .teem with Fairy folkl 

But when the Dawn is breaking 
The Fairy-folk fly quaking 
To shadowy glens and bowers, 
And hide in caves and flowers. 
Fair E'ymphs through glen and grove 
In laughing legions rove; 
The birds new flights are winging. 
And greet Love with their singing: 
Yet still the woodlands, up or under. 
Are full of witcheries and wonder. 

See! There's a tyrant spider 
Weaving nets for flippant flies, 
And standing right beside her, 
Brother Bumble packs his thighs 
With the pilfered sweets of flowers 
From a hundred different bowers; 
Fond filchings in fair weather 
From hare-bell and from heather. 



A Sylvian Symphony. 6i 

And here a-tip-toe tripping, 
With soft star-light in her eyes, 
I find a Xaiad slipping 
Into depths where daylight dies; 
And I kiss the rosy nipples 
That the snowy bosoms show : 
Then we dive beneath the ripples, 
But the rest — ^you needn't know ! 



62 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



FLORIDA FANCIES. 



nmtnter Mootngs ! 

(In the '' Sunny South/') 

I AM Winter, but my smile is so cheering 
You might almost mistake me for Spring ; 
My blossoms are pushing and peering 
When the swallows of summer take wdng. 

Though I threaten the blooms of November, 
I lam cowed by the thorns of — ^one Rose, 
And there are some eyes I remember 
That could melt in a moment my snows. 

Though I follow the steps of the mower 
Still rich are the harveS;tS' I glean ; 
Long e'er Love hears the Song of the Sower, 
My frosts are all broidered with green. 

When the Violets of March are fast fading 
My Jessamines and Roses appear, 
For Flora with blossoms is braiding 
The cincture that girdles the year. 



Winter Wooings. 63 

May marries December despite me, 
And I show ^' the cold shoulder " in vain; 
The earliest buds safely slight me, 
And my frosts even Lilies disdain. 

1 am born with the Moon in the crescent, 
I die with the Moon in the wane; 
For my snows are as evanescent 
As the glories of April's reign. 



64 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



mater Bewitcbeb ! 

Greets glooms are the orange groves yonder 

In whose dusk shine stars fragrant and fair; 

My fancies no further would wander 

Than these shores where the mid-winters wear 

Half the tints of the summers that faded 

To gold when November grew sere ; 

Even March with sweet blossoms is braided, 

And April sheds never a tear. 

'Not yet show our '' laurels " the luster — 
That rivals the lily's white gleam, — 
But May cometh soon ; you may trust her 
To ripen the buds that still dream, — 
Only dream of the days that are burning 
With blossoms still hushed into sleep : 
But March ends and with April's returning — 

The South wind breathes over the deep. 

« 

The Loltees and Lurlines that cower'd 
In gray grottoes deep under the waves, 
K"ow, knowing the Jessamines have flowered, 



Water Bewitched. 65 

Catch glimpses far down in their caves 
Of the Sun's golden showers — that stipple 
Their dusk with a freckling of stars, 
And they hark to the lilt of the ripple 
That breaks into song on the bars 

Of silvery sands, close embracing 
The bluest of heavens, that tell 
Every blossom and bower enlacing 
The green-girdled shores of Estelle.* 

Beneath the wide fans of Palmettoes 
Let us dream in the shadows that woo; 
The Yucca unsheathes his stilettoes 
To guard us from Hates that pursue. 

Shut out the bleak !N'orth with its wailing 

Of tempest, — its turmoil and tears ; 

Spread our sails to sof,t-winds, we are sailing 

With Love, — Hope the pilot who steers ; 

And Heaven perhaps is the Haven, 

If not — there are Edens below. 

Though the soul that's too cautious and craven 

May miss the gifts Godheads bestow. 

* Lake Estelle is between "Winter Park and Orlando, 
Fla. ; two well-known winter-resorts in De Leon's 
Land. 

5 



66 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

See ! there in the deep as it darkles 
Bluer skies than the heavens above, 
Far under the firmament sparkles ; 
Plunge in, win some Loltee — and love ! 
What is Death but the end of our dreamings ? 
What is Xight but the gateway of Days 
That bring uS', not Life's sordid sehemings, 
But the Deed that nO' doubting delays. 

Here we grope in a gray world of visions, 
Loves and hopes that but flower to fade ; 
But there are the homes of Elysians, 
And Doubt and Despair stand dismayed. 
Green-girdled thy shores that surround me, 
Lake Es.telle, with palmetto and pine ; 
Here no frail faded phantoms have found me. 
But — fair Loltees and Lurlines divine. 

Magnolias gleam darkly above me, — • 

But her " laurels " I leave to Estelle ; 

E'ot Glory — but the Graces shall love me 

If I woo not too wisely — ^but well. 

See ! down in the clear depths — far under — 

There open blue heavens of bliss ! 

If I plunged — would my saddened soul sunder 

From dreams of a lost w^orld like this ? 



The Cherokee Rose. 67 



Ubc Cberof^ee IRose! 

The peach trees bkisli, the pear trees blanch, 

Foliage or flower on every branch 

And bough to-day ; 

Soft blows the wind, bright shines the snn. 

Spring's sweet beguilements have begun. 

And yet 'tis March — not May. 

!N'ot under leafed lids shyly hide 
The violets — purple, white and pied, 
But airing all 

Their graces in the fields still sere ; 
These and the bluets first appear, 
"WHien mock-birds call. 

As yet, where over sandy shallows 

The rivule.ts run, but dark-stemmed sallows 

Show laoeries faint 

Of misty greens, and dark lagoons, — 

That mock the live-oaks' gray festoons, 

Eed maples paint. 

*Rosa Sinica, or laevigata, of some botanists, in South- 
ern Florida flowers end of January. 



68 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

The thrifty elm shows warmer tints, 

Embowered beeches give us hints 

Of Summer's green, 

And where the rustic roadways ramble, 

Mid purpling leaves white buds of bramble 

Like stars are seen. 

But last and loveliest of the gifts 
March brings us from December's drifts 
Of melting snows. 
White wings of butterflies set round 
A bronzed star w^ith a golden ground, — 
A wide-eyed Rose. 

Long sprays of leafage green and glossed. 

Like locks of laughing Dryads tossed 

To lure the Spring; 

In all the world no rose for me 

To match this Eose of Cherokee 

The March days bring. 



To Alma in April. 69 



XTo Hlma in Hprtl ! 

Let Winter winnow from his snows 
The gifts that gild this world of ours. 
Axid every wooing wind that blows 
Waft hitherwards from tropic bowers 
Exotic luxuries that bring 
Fulfillment of an endless S'pring. 

The biting frosts of Winter nerve 

The heplful hands that wrest a guerdon 

From Fate, and stalwart hearts best sei've 

To bravely bear life's heavy burden : 

But, longing for less scanty alms, 

The Norseman came from pines to palms. 



Here, where the frosts and flowers met, 
Lock hands, the lusty Year embracing ; 
Here, where the violets half forget 
Their shyness, sunbeams interlacing 
Red rose with snowdrops wintry-white; 
Here let Love rest him from his flight. 



7o Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Here, where .the " Frost flowers " fall and fade, 
Kissed by a sun too warmly beaming; 
Here, where the roses imafraid 
In ides of March of Mays are dreaming; 
Here, under fretted palm-leaves, Hope 
Should draw Love's happies.t horoscope. 

Not all the Summer's juiciest fruits 
Can sweeter prove than April's bowers; 
See, how the lissome tendril shoots, 
Its brown arms cradling baby flowers, 
That soon shall burgeon out and bud 
As fair as May-day's maidenhood. 

!N^ot all the Autumn's golden sheaves 
Can match the Jessamine's gems of ami 
And all about our cottage eaves 
Glycene's purpling clusters clamber 
In regal robes arrayed, that bring 
Rich fancies of some Flower King. 

What is 90 sweet, — nay, half so sweet, 

As buds by birdlings serenaded? 

The flowers, fondly, kiss our feet, 

And over us the trees have shaded 

Our woodland walks with curtains green, 

Looped up with festooned vines between.^ 



To Alma in April. 71 

Yet there is one thing sweeter far 
Than songs of birds or flowers the fairest : 
To this sad World from some glad Star, 
(Of all things spiritual the rarest!) 
On wings immaculate .there came 
A Soul estatic, wrapped in flame. 

It sought some £tting niche wherein 
It still might dream of that far Heaven, 
Some casket rusted by no sin, — 
Some gracious form with life for leaven. 
And found no daintier shrine than this 
Sweet body that my lips now kiss. 

As Summer's pulses stir the bud 
That quickens with the sweet prevision, 
So mixed this spirit with thy blood, 
Transfusing thee with powers Elysian ; 
And all thy charms of form and face 
From this new gift gained added grace. 

A coronet of Jessamine gold 

Shall add its treasures to .thy tresses. 

And robes as rich in tints untold 

As royal Glycene's, shall fold 

Thy lissome limbs, whose pallor shows 

The fairer for thy cheeks of rose. 



72 



Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



1 



Let April bring her brightest bud, 
^ot all her gifts can match thj graces ;- 
Thou art the flower of Womanhood, 
And where Love's soul the symbol traces. 
Thy memory blooms, and ever brings 
The sunshine of eternal Springs! 



I 



The Naughty Nixie. 73 



Ubc naxxQbt^ nixie ! 

(Lake Estelle.) 

In the lakelet's depths — that no ripples- dim, 

In the silence soft, where the finn'd-folk swim ; 

Under the floating flowers that swing 

To the softest airs that the breezes bring : 

There in the noonday dusk of the deep, 

Where even .the golden sunbeams sleep ; 

Couched on a bed of golden sands, 

My Witch of the Waves' — with waving hands — 

Beckons me down to that world below, 

AMiere Death is a dream that the Gods forego. 

Oh, you naughty Xixie, do you wish 
To bait your line with love, and fish 
For a '^ gudgeon " — not green, but as wrinkled 

and gray 
'As the bald-headed Bard who peers to-day 
Down in these depths, where he catches gleams 
Through the clare-obscure — of his faded 

dreams ? 
Who hears, like ,the chimes of bells long rung, 



74 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

The echoes of songs dead lips have sung? 
Who sees in the Heavens glassed below 
The skies that have darkened so long ago ? 
Who knows that the lures that you weave to-day 
Are the same old tricks (that the girls grown 

gray) 
Once played in the days that are dead as the 

wraith 
Of defrauded Friendships and murdered 

Faith ? 

l^ay ! naughty Xixie, your lures are lost, 

For my fires have long since turned to frost ; — 

In the waters beneath, or the Earth above, 

I have found but the pangs — not the pleasures — 

of Love: 
ISTo Lorely of the witching waves 
Can lure me do"\vn to her sunless caves ; — 
'Naj, the rosiest maid with her ripest kiss 
Can never waken Hope's buried bliss! 



The Heavens Below. 75 



XTbe Ibeavens :SSelovv» 

(Lake Estelle.) 

WiiEKE ripples glimmer and wavelets gleam, 
The lakelet dazzles the shadows dim 
Under the pines on its marshy rim ; — 
And I sit, by the silent shores and dream 
Of a summit far with i.ts sunlit crest, 
Rising high o'er the vales below 
AMiere brooklets babble and blossoms blow; 
But the waters and waves are best ! 
Fairest of all when the winds forget 
The roses to fan ind the ripples to fret. 
And I gaze in the depths with wonder ; 
For above, — if the skies are blue and bland, 
Down there are the fields of Fairyland, — 
And the Heavens are opening under 1 



76 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



XTbe IRomance ot tbe IRoses t 

White roses on lier breast, 

Tea-roses in her hair, 
Red roses softly rest 

On her cheeks blushing, where 
Kisses I press so oft 

Though she cries shyly — Hush! 
Whispering low and soft 

Lest that white rose should blush. 
As it would, — should it discover, 
That this lady had a lover ! 

White roses — pale as pearl 

Pressed to her beating heart, 
Ruddy rose that unfurls 

When her glad lips impart 
Secrets I would not tell, — 

^Vhispers I would not share 
Even with buds that fell 

Tossed from her golden hair; 
Lest these blossoms might betray us, 
Or with vengeful thorns delay us. 



I 



The Romance of the Roses. 77 

Tea-roses in her hair, 

White roses on her breast, 

Are they not whispering there 

Secrets that Love confessed ? 

Yet when those lips I press 

Blushing — she bids me go, 

Lest that fair rose should guess 

Half the things lovers know ; 

And my burning vows she hushes 

Lest these blooms should read her blushes. 

Red roses — ripe and rich, 
Matched with the lips I press, 
Dainty tea-roses, which 
Fettered by some fair tress, 
Falling in golden strands 
DoT\Ti on her bosom's snow, 
Where some bold lover's hands 
Finds where white roses blow: — 
Then behold, Love's lesson learning. 
Every blossom crimson turning. 



78 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



JSeau :fiSuttetfl^! 

Like a butterfly I flutter round the blossoms 

on life's pa.tli, 
And the sweetest words I utter, just to still dear 

Rose'si wrath, 
After having often flirted with the dainty 

Violet : — 

Trust ine, she's a true Coquette! 

When you find a flower, or fair one, loving 

shade and all too shy, 
These are just the sort to snare one, if youVe 

never learned to fly. 
All the Graces of the Garden I have tested, none 

are sure, 

But most dangerous the — demure. 

Sometimes, it is true, I blindly miss the Ros9 
and mate the Thorn, 

But fair Lily laps me kindly, and consoles for 
Rose's scorn; 

Spite of wishes and of wooing e'en Forget-me- 
nots forget. 

But red Tulips chide regret. 



Beau Butterfly. 79 

Let others wear .the willow, or weeds of sorrow 

shoAV ; 
On April blooms I pillow my wings that gleam 

and glow, 
And through the sunlit summer — Lily, Ros« 

and Viole.t 

Teach me to — flirt and to — forget. 

In a flurry and a flutter — each bloom captured 

by surprise ; 
Sweet lips can only stutter wdien we answer with 

our — eyes : 
Let the roses faint to lilies, — and the lilies 

blush and burn. 

As I woo them each in turn. 

Like a butterfly I follow the footsteps of the 

Spring, 
I emulate the swallow despite his width of 

wing; 
Through the glad and golden hours, with Lily, 

Rose and Violet, 

I flirt, and no frowns make me fret. 

So in the sunshine basking, I welcome all who 
woo; 



8o Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Take kisses for the asking, from red and white 

and blue : 
Why should they call me giddy because I laugh 

at nets ? 

I earn mj dews, and dodge all debts. 

Perhaps I'm somewhat fickle, that is — I, do 

not care 
To get into a pickle by trusting to Love's snare ; 
With all the world in blossom, whilst some I 

seek and others shun, 

I'll not wait long to win me one. 

Though Violet, Rose and Lily should all rebuif 

me now, 
I should be surely silly to weep for that, — I 

,trow ; 
The Graces of the Garden are not so hard to 

find, — 

And — change their mind. 

Like a butterfly I flutter round the flowers fresh 

and fair. 
And the sweetest words I utter when their 

honeyed stores I share; 
If the Roses' prove too fiery, there are Lilies, 

Heaven knows ! 

That might cool me with their snows. 



Beau Butterfly. 8i 

If to-day come gloomy showers and my beauties 

grow discreet, 
Then to-morrow's brighter hours shall make 

Hope seem doubly sweet, 
Doubly sweet and doubly willing thus to make 
at once amends 

To the ficklest of — friends. 



82 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Mitb a fm to ff icf?le ffannp ! 

"What gift were best to give you, dear, 

Fit too to keep as token 

Of all the coquetries that lure 

The hearts that you have broken ? 

What thing like you — both frail and fair — 

Unsteady, light and airy 

As some sly Nixie — swift to snare. 

Or flippant, frisky Fairy? 

At .times you're soft as eider down 
Wherein young Cupids nestle. 
At times vou're cold as when skies frown 
■And flakes with flowers wrestle; 
So fair and fickle, cool or kind, 
Xay! sometimes both together; 
So quick yovi change your mood or mind 
'Tisi hard to say, sweet, whether 

Hope's eager hand shall grasp the Rose 

Or gather .thorns that rankle ; 

Yet those your eyes leave free. Heaven knows, 



With a Fan to Fickle Fanny. 83 

Could ne'er resist jour ankle: 
Inspired, however, by Naughty JSTick, 
Sometimes with vengeful vigor, 
Mark how the little filly '' kicks," 
And Romeo treats with rigor. 

This Fan, the scepter of a Blonde — 
Whose finger wears no thimble, 
I give you, it is frail — not fond — 
Hence 'tis a fitting symbol ; 
With this between us you can make 
A ^' coolness " when you like it. 
Or fan a dying '' flame," or break — 
A heart if you shouM strike it. 

'Twill hide your blushes (if you blush) 
Though scant the space it covers ; 
'Twill screen in turn the gas and gush. 
Of all your legion lovers ; 
With it, sweet, give yourself such airs- 
As suit your fragile graces ; 
Behind it you may lay your snares 
In unexpected places. 

Sheltered behind this fan you fill 
With yawns — " gaps " conversational. 
And safely take your naps at will 



84 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

When Romeos grow too rational; 
Screened by its folds you'll dig your pits, 
And mask them with .those flowers 
Whose subtle fragrance turns the wits 
Of all who haunt your bowers. 

And if you wish a tete-a-tete — 

A fan proves safe and supple, 

A wall that only gives .. gate • , 

To — just take in — a couple ; 

But spread its facile folds and lo ! 

How many can it shelter ? 

Lothario seeing breasts of snow 

Believes his fires can melt her. 

You fancy that the lady's won 

Because she still is single; 

With you 'tis " feeling " — with her — " fun ''- 

To make your heart-strings tingle: 

Whoso would melt the living snows 

That guard her bosom's Aiden, 

Must be a Croesus, Heaven knows. 

And bribe wi.th bonds this Maiden. 

She never feels' — though sometimes felt, 
She'll never love — though lures you 
With kisses warm enough to melt, 



With a Fan to FickleFanny. 85 

Until she once secures you; — 
But won, — a convert to her charms, — 
Your heart as hostage taken, — 
You'll find cold welcome in her arms: 
First fooled, and then forsaken. 

A Fan ? Yes, that's the gift most fit 

For such a fickle beauty; 

She's neither wealth — nor worth — nor wit — 

Xor faintest sense of duty ; 

And yet she snares the wisest man, 

With flimsy favors fools him : 

'Tis pity, that unlike a fan — 

She somehow — never cools him! 



86 Songs of the Sahkohnagas.- 



\Dtrtue TUnrewarbeb ! 

(To Aline.) 

In" April she adored me, 
A lass of fourteen springs ; 
Indeed she rather bored me, — 
Her charms seemed childish things. 

I might have taken kisseS' — 
A dozen every day. 
But held such imripe blisses 
Too tame for even play. 

Then were it not misleading 
The maid, at least in part ? 
There's risk you see in reading 
The secrets of a — heart. 

And so I would not follow 
The clues she often gave ; 
My heart not hard or hollow. 
But still — I was no knave. 



Virtue Unrewarded. 87 

My conscience would have teazed me 
Had half her lures been mine ; 
Yet still her sweetness pleased me, 
Though I was — forty-nine. 

Another April flowers, 
The maid is just sixteen; 
She feels her ripening powers', 
Knows now what love may mean. 

And I, — an old friend truly, — 
What favors now are mine ? 
My hopes have grown unduly, 
iVnd she has — grown divine. 

" Two years ago, believe me, 
From kisses I abs.tained ; 
And now you should not leave m^ 
Without fair interest gained : 

^' Remember all those kisses 
I might have taken once ! " 
If so, the Houri hisses, 
You must have been a — dunce! > 



88 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



fftcftle fifteen. 

(To Aline.) 

God help the lover in love with a lass 

Of only fifteen years, 

For she loves less a man — than males in the 

mass', 
And the lonely " One " — left in arrears. 

file's not ^^ emotional/' not a bit, 
I^or fickle, but fond of—" all '' ; 
Yet " notional,'' that's the worst of it,. 
And will come at a coxcomb's call. 

Every few weeks her passions bud 

To a flower, but hardly a flame. 

And the shallowest heart best understood, 

Eor she likes her tempter — tame. 

Least of all shall you earnest be, 
Least of all must you — love, 
For her favorite tipple is " baby -tea," 
And with Folly — she's " hand and glove." 



Fickle Fifteen. 89 

To-day she will lure you if she can, 
Teiider — yet never true; 
To-morrow she's ogling some other man, 
And has quite forgotten you. 

Her heart is never an empty niche, 
Though her soul still a vacant shrine; — 
So woo, if you choose, the little witch* 
For she never could be mine. 



90 Songs of the SahkohnagaSc 



Uo a Supentle Juliette ! 

(To Katie McR.) 

DoN^T be in sucli an awful haste 
To find a lucky lover ; 
Enough of fools for every taste 
As later you'll discover ;- — 
So husband your resources now, 
Just wait a while, don't w^orry: 
Until you're twenty anyhow 
There's no great need for hurry. 

If every Gill can find a Jack, 

And every goose a gander, 

You needn't follow Cupid's track 

To look up your Leander: 

Even if you cannot " make heads swim " 

As Heroines might — or '^ Hero," 

Don't howl because the chance looks slim 

And all your hopes at zero. 

You've still some fi.ve or six good years 
Eor fishing, if your hooks are 



To a Juvenile Juliette. 91 

Kept baited ; and remember tears 

Are apt to hurt, when looks are 

The lures that best may help you catch 

Some Romeo to console you ; 

Eut watch lest spite of lock and latcli 

The rogue should still cajole you. 

Though aught that's naughty or .that's nude 

Your youthful tastes may tickle, 

Save as a sort of interlude 

For fancies frail and fickle, 

You'll find that Love in Hymen's House 

Is still the same old " Codger " 

Who tries to picture a carouse 

Out of one stale " corn-dodger." 

But really, if you will not wait — 
Say half a dozen summers. 
Then fly to Folly, meet your Fate, 
And welcome all newcomers : 
Don't feel for one — or flirt with two, 
But whilst Discretion slumbers, 
Invoke that proverb (old but .true) 
That " Safety lies in ^N'umbers ! " 

Keep on the ever lengthening List 
All sorts and all conditions, 



92 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

For even one fool migli,t be missed 
When Passion thus petitions ; 
Set traps for all the missing men, 
Young Dude or riper Dandy, — 
And even a Bald-head now and then 
Perhaps might come in handy. 



Wrinkles Versus Roses. 93 



{To Katie McK) 

CoME^ lassie, let your lips impart — 

In softest silence — what your heart 

Hath learned of True Love's lore ; 

It takes no weary years to tell 

The weight and worth of Passion's spell, — 

And ^' Fourteen's " wiser than " Fourscore." 

Roses, not wrinkles, are the signs 
That every tender heart divines, 
Love's hieroglyphic riddle. 
That aged eyes but dimly trace, 
^Vllilst happier youth — with easy grace — 
Soon learns by heart — that ''' fiddle 



?? 



Whose chords are heart-strings ; or the girls 

Would gran,t this Orpheus their curls 

To make the music better: — 

But if these Dears — divinely fair — 

You'd ever hope to safely snare — 

Forge fast a — Golden Fetter. 



94 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Though Cupid every ^vord should con 
In Lovers last — largest Lexicon, — 
But lit.tle help his wits could glean 
From Wisdom — with his wisest w^inks; — 
^OY trust to what a graybeard thinks, 
But let your guide be — " Swe^t Sixteen." 

And if you miss your Paradise, 

Your heart must long have turned to ice, 

Or palsied passions left you dry 

Of all the stamina and pith 

That you should need if dealing with 

A " bonnie lassie " — not too shy. 

Graybeard, beware lest you should fan 
A flame to warm some luckier man, — - 
Some Youth less shy than shifty ; — 
For even lassies of sixteen 
Know that there's little left to glean 
From the " bald spots " of — fifty ! 



The Sage of Sunny-Side. 95 



GOLDEN-TIDE 



(L\K Sage of Sunn^==Sl^e. 

They tell me I have wit enough 

To grace the world of fashion, 

Where all is in the " style "—not " stuff,"- 

And pride the ruling passion ; 

I might " rub elbows " with the great, — 

That is— the " Stars " and " Garters " 

Of those, whom some most cruel fate 

Makes into gilded martyrs. 

If I would cut the country clowns, 
And be some Dukeling's dummy, 
With coronets — if not with crowns — 
I might grow almost chummy; — 
If I could but forget to blush, 
And had more diamonds than deserts, 
In famous coverts I might flush 
Some faded fair who still are flirts. 

Might dance attendance at some fe,te 
Where dames, with sixteen quarterings, 



96 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Hold " Blood " alone can compensate 
For lack of many better things ; 
Might even reach such heights as these, — 
To be some faded Beauty's beau ; 
Yes, even win perchance a kiss 
From cheeks that faded long ago. 

Nay ! let your worldlings dance their jigs, 
Unraveling empty riddles ; 
I envy not your proudest prigs, — 
Content with flowers and fiddles; 
Content with rustic loves and lanes, 
With merry jokes and julips, 
Like yonder bee, who gets his gains 
From clover — ^not gay tulips. 

Loud clappers have your city bells, 

Of that there is no question, 

And endless feasts leave " swollen swells/'^ 

The curse of indigestion 1 

If I have wit, I'll prove it best 

By shunning fools of fashion, 

And that cold world — ^v^here love's a jest. 

And pride of pelf life's passion ! 



Saint Sunny- Heart's Shrii 97 



Saint Sunn^=1beart's Sbrine* 

In the hear.t of fair Merrj-Land once lived a 

Xing, 
CroTVTied with but roses spring after spring; 
A reed was his scepter, his throne was of straw ; 
Mirth was his mandate, — and Love was his law: 
Laughing and quaffing, kiss after kiss, 
Where could you find better monarch than this ? 

Business was banished, Profit accursed, 
Misery vanished: — Hunger and Thirst — 
Envy and Hatred — Trouble and Tears; 
These were but memories left of old years 
That had wasted the land e'er gracious King 

Hilary 
Took our Saint Sunny-Heart out of the pillory. 

Heavens ! of old how the tricksters of Trade 

Posed as our Xoblemen ; — titles all paid 

Cash down and " patented " : — fools .took the 

hint, 
Honor and power could come from the Mint ; 



g8 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Even true holiness would Heaven refuse 
To the sinners who sat in the silk-cushioned 
j)ews ? 

AVliat was respectable ? Pride and Pretenci;, 
Backed by the wisdom of dollars and cents. 
If in good broadcloth scamps could disport, 
Welcome they found at King " Moneybags' " 

Court ; 
But if poor Temperance danced in her rags, 
Down came a legion of high titled hags, 
Stripp'd to the waist, save scant loopings and 

lace, 
And vowed that .to show her bare shins was dis- 
grace. 

Fellows whose chief aims were profit and pay, 
Molded and made from the commonest clay ; — 
!N'ever fused by the fire& that out of its dross 
Shows at last in the furnace the glint and the 

gloss 
Of the Vase that shall hold as a chalice divine 
The gleam and the glow of (the souFs sacred 

wine ; 
!N'ot a " ISTobility," say what you please, 
But " Ig-nobility " surely were these. 



Saint Sunny-Heart's Shrine. 99 

But we buried '^ Aurelian/' the old King of 

gold ;— 
Wi.tli scant prayer and less pity laid him under 

the mold, 
Where the worm eats his hoart, and the rust eats 

his crown ; 
And over his monument gibbers a clown 
Ever laughing and quaffing, for though Death 

may be Rest, 
After all for the living the lively are best ; 
Your " Dead Lion " looks in an Epitaph w^ell, 
But bury him deep, — or the carcass will tell ! 

After '^ Aurelian " came " Hilary " — King, 
And his are the stories and glorie& we sing; 
If his Crow^i was not heavy, his Scepter was 

light, 
And his motto for Merry-Land : — " Roses aro 

Right ! '' 
As God gave us flowers, and fragrance and 

flame 
Of the sunlight above and the fruits of the 

same. 
So the j\Iandate was — Mirth, and his Mission 

was — Love, 
For the Gods hide no hates in the Heavens 

above. 

L.ofC. 



100 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Let Love be thy guide, even Lust by tlie way 
May toy with the blossoms Chance strews in his 

way. • 

It is Hate and not Love, it is Lies and not Lust, 
That tramjDle the flame of the Soul in the dust. 
Let our King be Hilarius; laughing he reigns, 
Every bliss — every kiss — counted wisely as 

gains : 
If your jealous Jeiiovahs grudge Wit, Woman 

and Wine, — 
Instead let us worship at Saint Sunny-Hearf 3 

Shrine ! 



i 



Light- Heart Harry. loi 



XiGbt*=1F3eart Ibarrp I 

Tm a wanderer — on the wing, never siip with 

Sorrow, 
Drink to-day from roadside spring, sip good 

wine to-morrow ; 
Never walk, but ride "■ Sliank^s mare " like a 

Knigiit benighted ; 
See, the goodly " arms " I bear, motto thus 

indited : — 
Light of heart and light of head, 
!N'ever mind what cares ahead, 
Life to Love is plighted ! 

!Never tavern found or town — that I ever stayed 

in, 
^Yhere, without a single crown, couldn't find a 

maiden 
x\nd a master who would trust such a merry 

fellow : 
l^ever let the moments rust, maids might grow 

too mellow: — 
I may miss to-morrow's chance, 



102 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

But I'll have to-daj mj dance, 
Be she green or yellow- 
Temperate tippling's no disgrace, and I am no 

bigot ; 
Mark me, master Boniface, never spare .the 

spigot; 
Hostess, kill the " fatted calf,'' let no capon 

caper ; — 
If I never pay the half, — just discount my 

paper. 
And the lassie in my lap 
Knows 'twill be no great mishap : 
If I should escape her. 

If long ere to-morrow's sun sink on land and 

ocean, 
I should vanish, as he's done (sometimes take 

the notion), 
Leaving all my debts unpaid and the sweet lass 

fretting, 
ISTeed not worry, little maid, fas,t you'll learn 

forgetting : 
Love we know's a gam.e of chance ; — 
\\niether dirge or whether dance. 
Blindly goes the betting. 



Light-Heart Harry. 103 

Boniface may hold as lost all the wine I wasted, 
And mine hostess count the cost of the feast I 

tasted ; 
But you need not weep, my lass, that your lad^s 

a rover, 
lEany a better one will pass e'er the day's half 

over: 
Cupidon in prison shut, 
Or with pinions curtly cut. 
Couldn't " live in clover." 

Let the wicked worldlings damn all my fun and 

frolic ; 
Airs and graces are a sham, conscience oft but 

— colic ; 
I am light of heart and head, — but by no means 

vicious ; 
Look upon the w^ine when red, think swe:t lips 

delicious : 
But I live, let others live. 
Can forget and can forgiv 
Merry, — not malicious. 

Thus with all my faults confessed, as no saint — 

but sinner. 
Still I welcome Love as guest, share with dogs 

my dinner; 



104 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Am no cliafferer or churl, trust the Gods and 

Graces ; 
Love the flowers that unfurl in life's hidden 

places : 
And whatever be my fate, 
Mark me, — 'midst the Rich and Great; 
You'll find " harder cases." 



A Lover of Good Things. 105 



Abou-Ben-Adam (may his pauncli increase 
With long libations — feasts that never 

cease ! — ) 
One night awoke, — for surfeit sorrow brings, 
And our friend had stuffed on divers things^ — 
Dainty but indigestible: in the soft gloom 
Of his delightful but dim-lighted room, 
Behold a Demon, long-eared as an Ass, 
Who scribbled scribe-like in a Book of Brass. 

Unstinted punch had made Ben- Adam bold, 
And so instead of cowering scared and cold. 
He thus addressed the Ghost or Goblin : 

Say old Fright, 
Why wanderest thou around so restlessly at 

night ? 
And what's the meaning of this awful scrawl ? 
Just "hump yourself," my long-eared friend, 

and tell ns all 1 
The Goblin growled, and with a grunt replied : 
I'm writing up the list of those good men who 

lived and died 



io6 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

In orthodoxy: — good — are only those 
Who pay their tithes, — and kiss the Papal toes; 
For it is writ : — ^^ Alone our Gospel saves ! '' — 
The Orthodox die sainted — though they lived as 
knaves ! 



And is my name upon your list? — The Goblin 

shook 
His tonsured head : — ]^ay, not in our Book ! — 
At Heaven's door in vain the best man knocks, 
Unless he's registered — as of the Orthodox. 
There's but one God, one only God redeems 
Even the veriest scamp, yet wrecks ,the guileless 

schemes 
Of men more honest, but who still refuse 
To worship our God, — Jehovah of the Jews. 

Then cried Ben-Adam : — Though your God I've 

missed, 
I pay no tithes, the Pope's toes never kissed, 
And am content to be dissevered and dismissed 
From all ;the frauds and fools I see upon your 

List ; — 
Just make this note, — before your Highness 

^^ winffs " 



A Lover of Good Things. 107 

Back to your " fireside '' :— That A. B. A. Is 

fond of all good tilings ! 
And lie who^s fond of '' all good things '' the 

Godheads send 
Hath still some right to claim the '' God of 

Good " — as — Friend. 



io8 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Zo Silenus I 

(A '' Grace '' Before '' Grub/^ 

Tastes differ, that is nothing new, 

But, to exactly meet your wishes, 

I know that nothing else will do 

Save Dirt-pies served in dainty dishes; 

Yet even vain votaries of Venus 

Cover their catesi with prudent icing ; 

Always remember this, Silenus, 

That " smut ■ ' requires a lot of ^' spicing." 

A Uttle ^^ muck " helps things to grow, 
But weeds come first, and you must thin 'em ; 
'^ Old cocks " like you should never crow 
On Dunghills with — no Diamonds in 'em. 
'Tis true, we welcome buxom Beauty, 
And Bacchus brightens our tables, 
But leave to " scavengers " the duty 
Of cleaning out " Augean Stables." 

Demurely veil the pictured Passion ; 
To strip her naked were a pity : 



To Silenus. 109 

Though Fools and Follies are in fashion 
With pungent puns we'll purge the city. 
Let the cowled hypocrites insist 
That Love is but a luring Lorej; — 
In our creed the Pleasure missed — 
Is what shall make our Purgatory. 



Some bigots hold that wit and wine 
Are sins against the brain and body, 
But we believe it good to join 
A genial ^' toast '' to jovial '^ toddy " ; — 
So here's to Wine that makes us mellow 
And (as we know) our prospects doubles, 
And here's to Wit, the merry fellow, 
Who helps to lighten W^isdom's troubles'. 

Thus "Mirth" shall ''rule the roast," and 

Reason 
Grow gay though always standing steady ; 
Pleasure can profit us in season, 
And Love is always — right and ready: 
^o Paradise long lost I paint. 
For Truth may look as fair as this is, 
Unless Love sours to a Saint, 
And Beauty must be bribed for kisses. 



no Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Leit priests and parsons' fabricate 

Their creeds to suit their predilections, 

Or Science even relegate 

All Sentiment to — ^^ conic sections '^ ; — 

In spite of Saint and Scientist, 

We'll stick to our time-honored Ruling, 

That lips were but made to be kissed, 

And that there's ^^ fun " in Fancy's '^ fooling.'' 

The Gods are not a gloomy lot 

Of ^^ Elohim," — fierce, stern and cruel, 

^or will they damn the sage as sot — 

Who adds rich grape juice to poor gruel ; 

And if they know that our Hereafter 

Not likely to be endless blisses, 

The easier they'll forgive Life's laughter, 

!Nor damn us for a few chance kisses. 



The Jollv Old King of Yvetot. iii 



Xlbe 5oll^ ®l^ mm ot 13v>etot 

There lived long ago as we know, 
A jolly old King in Yvetot ; — 
[N'ot in scepter and crown, 
But with night-cap and gown — 
He would sit in his palace of straw, 
And administer — Liquor and Law : 
Better king there was none 
Since the world was begun, — 
Better Monarch no man ever saw. 

Whether champagne his tipple or beer, 

He was always of excellent cheer ; 

Though but four times a day 

Could he feast, he was gay, 

And grew fat and funny in spite of his 

" Diet " ; 
He feared no rebellion or riot, 
For his Subjects were few, 
And they very well knew 
That His Jolly old Highness loved quiet. 

What cared he for Fame and such " Trump- 
ery '' ? 



112 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Enough to be " King of His Company " ; 

For his belly — a glass, 

For his bower — a lass; 

And the rest he would leave to the sinners 

Who shared his debauches and dinners, 

Content to be one 

Of .the Leaders of Fun, 

Though the Sages migh.t call him an Ass. 

He ne'er put his' pate under steeple, 
And laughed at all clerical people ; 
But the little he had 
He would give — to make glad 
The sorriest subject, who needed it most: 
And I think his leal " Laureate " may truth- 
fully boast 
That, — in spite of his sprees, — 
The Lord loves such as these, 
And won't let them go quite '^ to the bad." 

His heart was too liberal and large 

To keep but one Mis.tress in charge ; — 

" There is safety in numbers," they say, 

Said this Monarch so gallant and gay : 

So he slipped about town 

Without scepter or crowm ; — 

And whether to maiden or matron he went, 



The Jolly Old King of Yvetot. 113 

He was certain to win a most willing consent; 
To ^^ His Highness " they never said ^ay. 



Thus, with much better reason .than most 

Royal Heads, — he could honestly boast 

That he really was " Pater Patriae/' 

Or tried to be such, as you see : 

AAHiether blondes or brunettes, 

Whether j^rudcs or coquettes, 

He was willing to welcome them all to his arms, 

And to give (when he had them) his '' crowns ' ' 

for their charms, 
Such a liberal ruler was he. 

'No taxes he laid on the ^' Land," 

But on "Liquor" (as you'll well understand) 

Some '^ license " was needed, no doubt. 

To keep it from all leaking out ; 

So on every Brown Jug 

He — would levy a — mug, 

And drink to the health of all things that are 

nice. 
Prom kisses " on fire " — to champagne " on 

ice": 

With his chin quite atilt, 
8 



114 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 
All tlie ^^ revenue " was spilt 



a ^,,^ '> 



In an opening — just under his — ^' pug, 

A Monarch so merry was this, 

So fond of a '^ meal " or a ^' miss/' 

That throughout his long life 

The sole " War to the knife " 

Was against — not John Bull but his — beef, 

And Turkeys — not Turks came to grief : 

!N^o ^^ new leaf would he turn '' 

Tor wise-acres to learn; — 

No.t ^' bodiesi " he banished — but — Books ; 

His Lord's — scullions, — his Counselors — cooks, 

And " good living '' his only Belief. 

And when this good king of Yvetot 

Died, — as kings and churls must as we know, 

Strange to say all his leal subjects cried 

Xot because he had lived — ^but had died ; 

'Tis not often that Monarchs are missed 

By even the lips they have kissed, 

And to weep for them — one of the raresit of 

things 
To happen, I fancy, to the Greatest of Kings — 
In spite of their conquests and pride. 



The Jolly Old King of Yvetot. 115 

And to honor his memory best, — 

After laying his body to rest, 

A portrait they made of his " mug/' — 

Representing him draining a jug; 

And over the door — where of yore a bush 

showed 
Where liquor was offered to lighten life's 

load, — 
His picture was hung ; — 
That the old and the young 
]\right remember, whenever their " spirits " ran 

low, — 
The rum reign and the " smiles '' of the King of 

Yvetot. 



ii6 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



XTbe Matering ot tbe Sbamrock ! 

But little it matters to us 

Where St. Patrick was buried or born, 
But I'm soire such a " jolly old cuss " 

Must sometimes have taken a " horn/' 
Else the spirit would never, I'm sure, 

Have moved him to scotch all the snakes; 
For he did it no doubt to secure 

His " lambs '' from the worst woe of 
" wakes." 

When he first " wore the green," as we know, 

'Twas a Shamrock he sftuck in his hat, 
As a symbol or emblem .to show 

(And I think you'll confess it was pat !) 
That the three gladsome Graces of Life — 

Wit, Woman and Wine — was his text; 
Only Hermits who turn love to strife, 

With such a sweet theme would grow vexed. 

But Saints not so sour and stem 
Won't quarrel with sensible creeds, 



The Watering of the Shamrock. 117 

And even good Christians can earn 

Heaven's help without ^' counting their 
beads " ; 

A venomless vnt never harms, 

And ^' Lachrym?e Christi " revives : 

What more Heavenly, sure, than the charms 
Of virtuous and vigorous wives 1 



Our Saint was a wide-awake fellow — 

iSTot given to sleep the day through. 
But up Avhen the East was still yellow — 

He could scarcely avoid " Mountain Dew " ; 
Do you think when he stopped at some shanty, 

WTiere were " praties '' alone and " poteen," 
That he rudely refused rations scanty, 

And called his host's liquor unclean ? 

]^ay ! He certainly stuck to the flagon, 

And mixed every jorum with jokes. 
And if a poor girl with no rag on 

(Unlike the false prude, who still cloaks 
Her sins in gay silks) bade him enter, 

I'm sure he would never decline. 
For he kn^w that no Saint could prevent her 

From choosing her own Valentine. 



ii8 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

I wisli that St. Pat had come over 

From Cork some few cen,tiiries back, 
Bringing witli him a sowing of clover, 

And Shillalahs wherewithal to whack 
Every snake (be it viper or " rattle ") — 

Cutting short their infernal increase: 
It would help both poor Christians and cattle, 

Who might then live in clover and peace. 

Did he kill all the snakes (scotch and score 'em) 

Not one rattle-tr£.p leaving behind, 
I would make him and mix him a jorum 

He would drink till his blarney grew blind ; 
For say what you will, a mixed whisky 

Is the spirit that moves us at will. 
And even a Saint will grow frisky 

If you ice it and spice it with skill. 

Then here's to St. Patrick — the soaker! 

Who knew that " still waters run deep " ; 
He loved both a jorum and joker 

To help him his vigils to keep ; 
He scotched all the snakes (though 'twas risk>) 

That troubled old Erin the Green; , 
That's the reason why good " Irish whisky " 

Makes' the very best sort of " poteen." 



True Love Always Runs Smoothly. 119 



Urue !!Lov>e 1Runs Hhva^s Smootbl^ ! 

Who said that '" True love rouglily runs " 

Was but a faithless fellow, 
Or argued from the fickle ones 

Whose fancies ne'er grow mellow ; 
Too early blossoms nipp'd by frost — 

Or fruits too soon maturing, 
Green fruitage hardly worth the cost 

Or trouble of securing. 

True love is not the fickle boy 

With roses crowned and ringlets, 
Who only lures us to destroy, 

And shoulders errant winglets ; 
Who plumes his feathers for new flights 

With every change of season ; 
From him Doubt steals life's best delights, 

And Time betrays each treason. 

'Twere better said, that " True love runs 
" The smoother for its trueness '' ; 

And he who fickle Fancy shuns, 
!N'ot lured by gilded ne^\^less, 



120 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Trusting but hearts that housed him long, 

That ay gave shelter kindly, 
Will find that love but grows more strong 

From loving not too blindly. 

Who said that " True love never ran 

As smoothly as blind passion,'' 
Had only studied love and man. 

In superficial fashion ; 
Deceived perhaps by those nine fools 

Who woo the flirts they follow, 
Forgetting that by Wisdom's rule 

Nine hearts in ten are hollow. 

True love is not the offering touched 

With ever hungering fires, 
Whose altar-cloth is smeared and smutched 

With stains of loose desires; 
True love is not the gift that brings 

Doubts, sorrows and heart-burnings, 
Whose sweets are fenced about by stings, 

Like hives that hoard their earnings. 

Nay ! True love smoothly runs, I wiss, 

Fenced well from all disaster, 
Hope ripens to the richest kiss 



True Love Always Runs Smoothly. 121 

And Truth is Distrust's master; 
Coquettes may scatter golden smiles, 

And flirts their favors barter, 
But hearts untouched by Folly's wiles, 

J^o scourging doubts can martyr. 

True love wears myrtles wreathed w^ith 
palms. 

And brings not thorns, but roses ; 
An Eden Island fenced by calms 

Prophetic Hope discloses ; 
There Jealousy can find no food 

To keep his fancies lusty, 
And Passion, by the Graces woo'd, 

More tender grows and trusty. 

Banish this boy with fickle wings 

To some far Purgaory, 
To some mos.t barren shore where sings 

A lying, luring Lorey ; 
A flippant flirt whose sweetness cloys — 

Coquetting with a dozen ; 
Such favors may content the boys 

She likes to kiss and cozen. 

True Love is no such fickle friend 
As this young cub with pinions, 



122 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Whose court a host of frauds attend 
From Folly's wide dominions; 

Nay ! Love's an angel robed in white, 
Whose sanctity can leaven 

The lusts that lure us with delight, 
Transfiguring Earth to Heaven! 



The Postern ; or, the Squire's Quest. 123 



Zbc postern ; or, tbe SQuire's (Siuest ! 

(From the German.) 

Weaeied and worn I reach at last 

The well-known postem-door, 
And find, alas, the latch is fast. 

It will not open more ; 
But lovers, who have .trysts to keep, 

AYill lauo'h at bolts and bars : 
The crumbling; wall I lightly leap, 

Watched only by the stars. 

Arched portal of the castle hall 

Is not where I slip in ; 
There let the Knights and Xobles all 

Flock when fine feas.ts begin ; 
Let dandies strut Avith nodding plumes, 

And dames in rich attire : 
If not one of the '' stable grooms," 

I'm an unstable " Squire." 

The hie'h and haua'htv Castellan 
Looks dowTi on Squires like me, 



124 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Yet, certes, the gentle lady Anne ■ 

Waits at the trjsting tree. 
If all the^se lords and ladies fine 

The proudest ^' portals " know, 
The secrets of the ^' postern " mine, 

When I would come and go. 

His " Highness " feasts on dainties rare, 

And rose-red wine he sips, 
But I — a squire only — fare 

On beauty's rosier lips : 
The honors of the court confer 

On scamps who push and shove, 
But modest souls like mine prefer 

The heraldries of Love. 

Yea, even should death quench this flame 
Of Youth's too short-lived springs, 

My modest soul would hardly claim 
The heaven reserved for kings ; 

But though St. Peter's portals shut, 
The good saint kept my score. 

And winking at me just said : " Cut 

Through yonder postern door ! " 

" This portal grand, where here I stand, 
Reserved for Power and Parae; 



The Postern ; or, the Squh-e's Quest. 125 

Here everything is stiff and grand — 

And tiresome and tame; 
But yonder little postern leads 

To Edens not too fine, 
Where beauties never count their beads^ 

And Love finds Wit and Wine." 

Let Glory enter at the fifate 

Where Grandeurs stand on guard ; 
I shall not grumble at my fate 

If from all fame I'm barr'd; 
But give me soft content that brings 

The peace of sunlit dayS', 
And Love, who, in the shadow sings 

In modest Beauty's praise. 



126 Sones of the Sahkohnaeas. 



Xacrim^ Cbrtstu 

{From the German.) 

In Highlands, where the vineyards give 

Draughts always sour and sharp, 
Of old a minstrel used to live, 

A master of the harp ; 
With Emperor Frederick southward went 

From Alpine heights to where 
The Roman roses softly scent 

The sweet Italian air. 

ISTay, further sunward played his glees, 

Where Naples glittering lies, 
A city shored by summer seas, 

And sheltered by soft skies ; 
There first from rustic vases poured 

A wine so rich and rare. 
Our minstrel felt such draughts had scored 

Glad conquest over Care. 

For this rare wine like music thrills, 
Like beauty's blush it glows ; 



Lacrimae Christi. 127 

Its magic from all hearts distils 

The best Love hopes or knows. 
Mine Host, what wine is this you bring? 

The happy Harper cries ; 
One drop could make old Satan sing 

In spite of all helFs sighs. 

Within my veins I feel the blood 

Of " twenty '' pulse once more ; 
Life's tides again sw^eep at the flood, 

And Hope leads on before ! 
Stout Boniface, with smiles replies: 

This wine that charms and cheers, 
Xursed ever 'neath God's golden skies, 

We always call ^^ Christ's tears." 

Our minstrel, gazing on the draught 
That seemed to flame and flower, 

Remember'd whines in Highlands quaffed 
At home, dry, harsh and sour; 

This vin,tage of his Home Land hills 
" With puckering lips recalls. 

For there the hoar-frost often chills. 
And dim the sunlight falls. 

But this rich Wine hath sipped the sun 
From March to soft September, 



128 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

And he who sees its rubies run 

Can only Love remember. 
Then on his knees the minstrel sank, 

And raised his eyes to Heaven: 
Oh, Lord, to Thee I now give thank 

For .this draught sent to leaven 

Life's bitter crust ; and should Christ weep 

On this sad earth again, 
Oh, let him tearful vigils keep 

Where Highland vineyards stain 
My memory with wines so sharp — 

They brought a sense of pain. 
Dulled the glad music of my harp. 

And soured my heart and brain. 
Oh, dear Christ, give us " Tears " like this, 
And Beauty's smiles we'd hardly miss! 



Holy Alliance of Love and Folly. 129 



TLhc 1bol^ Hlltance of %ovc anb ffollp. 

(From the German.) 

The singer of a summer song 

In rose-girt garden biding, 
Around him lads and lassies throng, 

No stern duennas chiding. 
Keep quiet, boys ! the poet cries. 

Give heed, Madge, Myrtle, Mabel ; 
The Graces should become more wise 

By studying this fable. 

In this lost earth of ours, left. 

By chance, strayed far Dan Cupid, 
Of all his heavenly hopes bereft, 

He felt both sad and stupid. 
O, hearken to my prayers-, grim Jove ! 

From high Olympus banished. 
In vain through this vain world I rove, 

Whence Truth and Trust have vanished. 

With all of Eden's charms adorned — 
Grace, beauty, wit and passion — 



130 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

'Tis safe to say I'm never scorned, 
Indeed^ I'm quite the fashion; 

But thiough I rule a thousand hearts, 
^o harvest 'scapes Time's sickle ; 

The wiser damn my rankling darts, 
Declare my joys all fickle. 

The sages say my lures are cheats, 

They leave no charms unchidden, 
And he who tastes the proffered sweets 

Finds love the " fruit forbidden " ; 
Who's gay to-day to-morrow grieves, 

Who '' makes " to-morrow " misses " ; 
Of all my treasures Prudery leaves 

Not even Youth's first kisses. 

In such a world I would not stay; 

!N^^o Promised Land — no Moses 
To guide me by some sunlit way 

From thickset .thorns to roses ; 
The pearls I scatter near and far 

They say are only pebbles ; 
The Passions, pilgrims from some star 

More fair than this, are rebels. 

Dan Cupid's grandpapa, great Jove, 
Hearkened the Love God's pleading^ 



Holy Alliance of Love and Folly 13. i 

Yet knew no world had ever throve 
If barred from bliss and breeding ; 

So, from the Halls of Heaven he sends 
To earth Love's only sister ; 

As long as these continue friends 
Joy reigiis — and Cupid kissed her. 

And who is she, this rose-lipp'd maid 

Who sings and smiles so gayly? 
The roses of her crown may fade, 

Yet still she dances daily; 
Wisdom may wear a robe of rags. 

Truth's often melancholy. 
But this maid's tongue forever wags 

In mirth ; her name is Folly. 

United thus by Jove's decree. 

Folly and Love together, 
Even Grief in gray shall fly and flee. 

And clouds bring sunny weather ; 
With roses crown my grizzled hairs, 

'No " death's-head " daunts our chances ; 
Give Reason rest and banish cares — 

The blind mus^t trust — blind chances ! 



132 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Uo jffl>eecenu6 ! 

Horace.) 

Long since Msecenus, waiting for the sign, 
Within its cask hath slept the ripening wine; 
Bahns to anoin,t thee shall mj servants bring, 
And flowers to crown thee as onr festive King. 

Snatch some brief pleasure from the busy 

days,— 
The dnst and tnrmoil of the City's ways ; 
From ^sula. turn and Telegon's blue walls. 
And Tiber — whitening into waterfalls^ 

Desert the Rich who give but empty shows, 
And seek with me the joys of wise repose; 
Leave Rome behind with all its din and dust ; 
To modest Love and faithful Friendship trust. 

Even a Croesus wearies of his gilded home; 
'Tis well at times to roam from even Rome, 
Seeking some rustic roofage, where expectant 

sits 
One of the best of friends, my friend, — if not 

of wits. 



To Meecenus. 133 

These are the days of desolate dust and drouth, 
When Sol grows ardent — Sovereign in the 

South ; 
Andromeda's star-crowned sire shines revealed, 
And Procjon rages o'er the azure field. 

The languid shepherds and their fleecy flocks 
Seek the cool shelter of the woods and rocks, 
The silent margins of the rivers miss 
The beckoning flowers and the winds that kiss. 

All rest save thee (on cares of State intent), 
Perj)lexed with troubles of a Continent, 
Fearing lest by the factious Don — or Cyrus' 

realm — to-day 
The conquered hosts should strive against 

Rome's wiser sway. 

The issues of the future the wise Gods enshroud 
In Xight impenetrable ; sunshine, friend, or 

cloud, 
Still rest with Jove, who lets no mortal scan 
Even the length or limits of life's narrow span. 

The Present heed, and its due value weigh ; 
The Future — endless — links with this briei 
day; 



134 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Words, thoughts and acts — the drops tliat bi,t 

by bit 
Add to the Ocean of the unknown Infinite. 

What human prescience can foresee the course 
Of one chance drop, — one atom of life's force ? 
The river mirrors but its narrow banks, and 

these 
Can give no truthful picture of Fate's wider 

seas. 

The river ruffles and its beauty dies. 
For calmest waters best reflect the skies; 
Thus', too, our souls, if qui,te at peace within, 
Best mirror Heavens that they yet may win. 

Let the day bring its treasures or its tears. 
All gifts and griefs are balanced by the years ; 
What has been — Is, what shall be — who can 

shun ? 
Strive not — but rather say : — Thy will be done ! 

Strive not with Fortune for her fickle gifts. 
With tides she changes and with winds she 

shifts ; 
Fair-faced to all, yet true at last to none ; 
Who trust her most, are most of all undone. 



To Maecenus. 135 

Treat lier in kind; if she gives smiles — smile 

back ; 
But do not sue her when her love grows slack ; 
Roofed with content, with Virtue's modest fare 
Let Poverty — a dowerless bride — thy cottage 

share. 

'Tis not for such to weep when stormy winds 

assail, 
And the bent mast is shivering in the gale ; 
Wealth dares the waves, wins much and loses 

more; 
But we — whose share a shallop holds — ^keep 

close to shore. 

, Though the rich galleys wrecked, still wreckless 

to the last, 
I bide my time, and wisely dodge the blaSit : 
Through the -Egean storms, led by the sailor's 

sign, 
I win the Haven, and Love's modest home is 

mine. 



136 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



TTbe tipplers XTest 

(Too-tonic.) 

A MERRY chase, my men, was ours 
To-day, cried Robin Hood, 
And now 'neath yonder cloister-towerS 
Gray Monks keep vintage good 
Stored in deep cellars; let us test 
My good Lord Abbot's taste. 
And if his wines are of the best 
We'll never let them waste. 

" Vobiscum Pax," most Reverend Sir, 

And welcome be the chance, 

After long chase with whip and spur, 

To taste red wines of France ; 

For we have heard your cloisters boast 

Of draughts that none surpass ; 

My merry comrades here would .toast 

Your " Lordship " in a glass. 

The Abbot bids the Cellarer bring 
A bumper of such size, 



The Tippler's Test. 137 

It circled twice around the rin^, 

Though each bold Huntsman tries 

To do his best and drink it out 

Down to the very lees ; 

But tliongli each drinker dry as drought, 

Enough for ten of these. 

Then spake bold Robin: Better draught 

Xo King, upon my soul, 

Hath ever .thirsting thankful quaffed 

Than I from this great bowl; 

And if there be a Monk on Earth 

Who can this bumper drain, 

I pledge my word as man of w^orth 

To give him- as his gain 

This goblet filled up to the brim 
With weight of golden coin. 
Thereon a llonk steps up to him, 
Broad shouldered — large of loin — 
A sturdy fellow fit to swing 
Broad battle ax or blade 
In conflict, when the arrows sing 
And Knightly lances laid. 

" But prithee give me time to pray 
Alone — a little space ! " 



138 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

So spoke the Monk, and turned away 

To seek some quiet place 

Perchance, where he might well invoke 

Great Bacchus, God of Wine, 

For emptying such a bowl — no joke 

As you might well opine. 

The Abbot, doubtful, shakes his head; 

" The test he fears to stand ! '^ 

But ere a good half hour sped 

Our Monk's again on hand; — 

He grasps the bowl and lifts it up, 

Gulps fast and drinks it dry; 

Looks round and laughs, sets down the cup 

Bravo ! — the Hunters cry. 

Astonished stood bold Robin Hood, 

And all his men as well; 

Some magic this not understood. 

The working of some spell. 

Asks Robin : When you left us erst 

A space, perhaps for prayer. 

What God inspired you with this thirst 

That ten men well misrht share ? 



•■t)' 



"NsLjl Master Robin, simpler far 
The method and tbe man : — 



The Tippler's Test. 139 

lu our cellars bumpers are 

As big as this you scan, 

And one of these I first drained out 

To gauge my gullet's chance: — 

If ever of one's powers in doubt, — 

Why test them — in advancti ; 



140 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



ROSES AND RUE. 



Xope's Starlit IRoon ! 

As wide thy sheltering wings extend, 
O ]^ight ! how sweet thy shades are ; 
Thy shadoAvs all true loves befriend ; — 
Less cold the shyest maids are, 
For though thy stars still watch above, 
They are in league with all who love. 

Those stars are sentinels that keep 

Long watch for erring lovers, 

For hopes will slip and hearts will sleep; 

Thougli Cupid beats all covers, 

And bags the game (that's his of rights) 

Always most readily o' nightsi 

True lovers hail the sickle moon, 
That reaps the winrows twinkling 
Of stars — that signal Passion's noon; 
And we have all an inkling 
That even prudisb maids would kiss 
On nights as dearly dark as this. 



Love's Starlit Noon. 141 

Who woos bj day may miss his mark, 

And never find a lady, 

But if you'll bide discreeter Dark 

In bowers shy and shady, 

The haughtiest maid (in such eclipse) 

May breathe her soul out on your lips. 

If Danaes* you're content to win, 

Choose sultry hours and sunny, 

Wear all your bravery and begin 

To measure out the money ; 

Maidens there be — fair, proud and cold — 

Who yet have given themselves for gold. 

But if some fair Fidelia, sweet. 

Hath touched your heart and fancy, 

And you would make her pulses beat 

Through Cupid's necromancy. 

Then choose the hours — when stars above 

Announce the shadowy Noon of Love. 



142 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



XTbat Sweet Morb— ^^ ©urs ! " 

Methiis^ks ill clays now fading far 
Into dim memcry's retrospect, 
When every eve saw Love's bright star 
Lighting the hinds we recollect, 
That you and I were then, my dear, 
Xeighhors, both neighborly and near. 

Ah ! then it was your reign of roses — 
Full twenty golden years ago, 
And boyhood hardly needs a Moses 
To guide him to that Land, you know, 
That Land of Promise and Proposal, 
Where Beauty stands at Youth's disposal. 

I was a country lad, and you 

A lassie rustic quite and rosy; 

In those days I was " green " — not " blue,'' 

And doubtless often pert or prosy ; 

But how I loved and what befell 

Your blushes, dear, perhaps might tell. 

There ran a shallow brooklet brown 
And clear between your farm and ours, 



That Sweet Word—" Ours." 143 

Whose waters rippling softly down 

Were fenced with ferns and fringed with 

flowers ; 
.Vnd though you stood on t'other side, 
The distance, dear, was not so wide. 

A lambkin could have leaped that brook, 

A willow wand could arch it over. 

Yet you and I would only look — 

Xot leap — scant breadths of corn or clover: 

Was it some lack of wish — or wit — 

That kept me still from crossing it ? 

But buds to blossoms burgeon out. 
And rivulet ripens into river : — 
Love, that arch Archer, none can doubt 
Keeps arsenal'd arrows in his quiver, 
And soon or later feathers a shaft 
To strike and drive the dullest daft. 

So I, though not quite shallow — shy, — 

Dim-visioned, too, began to find, 

!N^ot what the doubting damsels sigh 

(That Love is lame and Beauty blind!), 

But — that where Friendship limps — Love 

leaps, — 
That Passion wakes when Prudence sleep 



144 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Before Love's rosy reign began, 

How often, as a rustic rover, — 

Your Father's fields I used to scan, — 

The tass'ling corn — the purpling clover — 

The brooklet's fringing flowers so tall, — 

Yet somehow missed the best of all. 

But one day you that side — I this, 

I faltering still and you shy smiling, — 

Perhaps at fancies dull men miss 

(For girls are subtle and beguiling). 

You hardly chary with your chaffing, 

Yet love seemed lurking in your laughing. 

And I, though with some churlish doubts, 
Prepared to hold (still looking over) 
That even when a maiden pouts 
Such lips would lure bees cloyed with clover ;- 
That eyes, now melting and now mocking, — 
Kept all love's sweetest fancies flocking! 

That day, no doub.t in ambush lying, 
Love lurked and spied the youthful couple ; 
He saw your smiles and heard my sighing, 
Then bent his sinewy Bow and souple; 
Swift — right and left — two arrows flit. 
And lad and lassie both were hit. 



I 



That Sweet Word— "Ours." 14S 

There grew a rampant briar beside 
The brooklet's border, leafy bowers 
With long sprays tossing wild and wide, 
And scores of flushed and fragrant flowers ; 
And the fair lass made fruitless quest 
For one rose — crowning all the rest. 

She could not reach it, though her arms 
Stretched half-way that brown brooklet o'er, 
\Miilst I took time to con the charms 
That somehow I had missed before ; — 
Such Rose to rape needs over-reaching, 
And Love asks but short time for teaching. 

I sprang to aid her, but she pouted ; 
Abashed I stood with doubts debating, 
My budding hopes fade fast — thus flouted : 
"What sharper pang than wasted waiting? 
Ah ! Love is such a timorous thing. 
That every trifling doubt can sting. 

Though thus my passion seemed impeached, 

Some hopeless courage mustering. 

Up to the roses ripe I reached. 

Amidst their leaves close clustering; — 

I seized them, cried: — Here, take your 

flowers ! '' 
She smiled in answer : — call them — " Ours " ! 

II 



146 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

'Not " hers " but '^ ours " : — how in me stirred 

A pulse that gladdened into glees, 

And like the singing of a bird — 

^^^len Spring is garlanding the trees, 

My lips, that still some doubt deters, 

Kept whispering only : — " ours " — no.t " hers '' 

But waking wits, that bliss had dazed, 
Guided me from that soft eclipse, 
And half afire and half amazed, 
I solved the riddle on her lips, 
And there, amid green corn and clover, 
Oon'd the sweet lesson ten times over. 

Yes ! after that no rose was hers 
That was not mine ! — we shared together 
Life's blossoms (sometimes too the burs), 
One roof in clear or cloudy weather 
For both : ah ! who forgets the powers 
Love grants to that sweet word called — 
" Ours " ! 



Crowned Slaves. 147 



Cro\vne^ Slaves! 

Mock lovers, if you choose, who sigh, 
But how can Hope live if Love should die ? 

Sweet Love, that teaches soft consent 
To wooings of some kindred soul ? 
Hope is the Pilot, — Love the '' Pole '' 

That points the happy continent 
Towards which some set their sails in vain; 

For there are rocks and wrecks to dare. 

Luck is too lean for all to share, 
And few shall reach that ^' Flowery main " ; 
Yet though the skies so seldom fair, 

And wicked waves their white teeth 
show, 

I'd dare the fiercest winds that bio 
To win that Haven over there — 

Where Beau,ty, — fair as the flowers of 
Spring, 

Crowns slaves as Glory crowns no king. 



148 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Xover's (SlviarrelB! 

{From the German.) 

Cries Madge to Mart: Forever we leave to 
meet no more, 

'Tis best at once to sever ; wipe out the shame- 
less score; 

Or, keep your I^ineteen steady and let the 
Twentieth part, 

As yet I am not ready — to share so large a 
heart. 

Until this old j)ine, darkling, where once we 

made our vows. 
Shall shoAV red roses sparkling upon its dusky 

boughs, 
We part : — The word was spoken ; he left her 

with a groan. 
For roses, as a token, on pine-trees never known. 

She closed the sash, that's certain, she even 

slammed the door, 
Pulled fiercely down the curtain, in fact she — • 

almost swore. 



Lover's Quarrels. 149 

Next day that way returning, and glancing at 

the pine, 
Lo ! like Love's beacon burning, its boughs with 

blossoms shine. 

A score of ripened roses tied on with ribbons 
blue, 

The door once locked — uncloses, the curtain 
goes uj) too ; 

And there in shade half hidden, like may- 
blooms in arrears, 

A lover's lips unchidden kiss away a lassie's 
tears. 



i5o Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



The faintest wish that Love might whisper 

To ears attuned to dainty dalliance; — 

N^o over-zealous vim and valiance, 

But fireless fancies — one might lisp a 

Diffident virgin of not over 

Some fifteen summers, — fair — bu,t fruitless; 

Passion still an '^ air plant " — rootless, 

Waiting for that romantic rover 

Whose kisses ripen and make ready 

The happier harvest : — thus to her gently 

(As to a saint) — speak reverently, 

^Nursing your faith — long grown unsteady: 

!N'or teach too soon this flower of Heaven, 

That Love's sweet fruit — needs earth for leaven. 



Dark Eyes and Hours.' 151 



Violet eyes and cheeks of rose, 

Cherry lips that soft -unclose 

Revealing pearly teeth, — Heaven knows! 

Are charms to win an anchorite ; 

But ebon locks and soft brown eyes, 

Pale cheeks on which a shadow lies 

Like the starred dusk of fading skies. 

Can tune our hearts to new delight; 

iVnd lead lis from the gilded glare 

Of Day to dim-lit bowers where 

Love's stars shine through the silvery night. 

Love is a jealous God, who shuns 

The Gardens lit by golden suns : — 

Dark eyes — and hours — are his by right. 



152 Songs of the Sahkohnagas.' 



/iDore pruMsb— '^ban iprubent* 

She looked up and laughed and she looked down 

and blushed, 
And her red lips she closed tight together, 
As much as to say — that the thing should be 

hushed, 
Sheltered safe from the wind and the weather ; 
"WHiatever it might be, no game should be flushed 
Unless 'twere in Hymen's own heather ; 
She didn't feel sure, but stray footsteps had 

crushed 
Some faint feeling — or was it a feather ? 
At any rate, what is the value of speech 
Wlien a blush — or a touch or a soft sigh can 

teach. 
Whilst the tongue in a tangle would get you ? 
Oh, sly laughing lassie, but keep within reach. 
With your lips like red cherries, your blush like 

a peach. 
Sure my kisses will never forget you. 



Immortelles. 153 



Uminortelles. 

Though Love pilfered every rose 
That or Earth or Eden knows 
(Blossoms whence sweet nectar drips!), 
He could never mate jour lips. 

Though the violet in the shade, 
And the pansies lent their aid, 
Though Love stole from April skies, 
He could never match your eyes. 

N^ot all the blooms of Ottaray 
Can compare with you to-day, — 
You — the fairest flower that brings 
^lemories sweet of sun-kissed Springs. 

Barren Winter — Bitter Death, — 
Shall not chill you with their breath; 
Ere the smiling Summer dies', 
Angels errant from the skies. 

Tempted by such rare perfume, 
Shall transplant you from my tomb, 
And in Heaven's happier air 
You shall blossom ever fair: 



1 54 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Like the Saintly Lilies shown 
Whitening round the golden Throne, 
Breathing forth, as Mercy must, 
Tender fragrance o'er my dust. 

In my grave enough of bliss 

That you send a scented kiss: 

Touched by such a deep desire 

Even ashes turn to fire, 

And in flames of incense rise 

To share the sunshine of Love's skies. 

Yea ! were Eden twice as fair, 
I should miss you, darling, there; — 
Better dust — where blossoms are — 
Than Faith's Heaven without Love's Star. 



Prim Rose. 155 



IPrlm IRose ! 

She was no doubt quite rosy, 
And Rose they called her too, 
Yet I found her rather prosy, 
Indeed a little—'' blue " ; 

And should I give her such a name 

As just her mind or manner shows, 

I think the little maid might claim 

The Prude's prsenomen — of — '' Peim Rose.' 



156 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



:fi5rovvn iB^cs ant) Blue ! 

But yesterday I loved you, dear, 
Indeed, the matter seemed so clear, 
I told you all about it ; 
But lately, to my great regret, 
I fell in love with Lou, Lisette ; 
Hard fact, though you may doubt it. 

Your ej'es were brown, her eyes were blue, 
And she was charming (so were you), 
Alas ! I would she were not ; 
I know 'tis fickle thus to veer. 
But you are distant, she is near. 
And only cold hearts err not. 

Your lips were rosy (hers are too), 
And when I kissed her first, — kissed Lou, 
Half yours — half hers — ^lier graces seemed; 
She has your winning ways and wiles, 
She sighs like you, like you she smiles, 
And kissing her, of you I dreamed. 

If I love Hoses wet with dew, 
Shall I not like the Lilies too ? 



Brown Eyes and Blue. 157 

Each of their kind the fairest ! 

'Twere false to both to love but one ; 

To both kind Heaven sends shower and sun, 

With scents and tints the rarest. 



I haven't a doubt but that you'll pout, 
Lock up your love, and turn me out 
Of the heart that used to house me ; 
But, sweet Lisette, I love you yet. 
Your soft brown eyes I cannot forget, 
Xor the charms that used to rouse me. 

In the future, perchance, we yet may meet, 

AMien blue are forgotten and brown eyes greet 

The prodigal lover — returning ; 

If so, there's no doubt that in lieu of Lou, 

Lisette, I shall once more be wooing you 

In spite of your spite and spurning. 

For believe me, my heart is no narrow niche 

For only a single Saint ; such pitch 

Of Monotheism's too tight a te;ther ; 

I love brown eyes as well as blue, 

To both Lou and Lisette my heart is true, 

Adoring — both together. 



158 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

It were singula^' surely (the pun may pass) 

To love always and only a single lass, 

And to love her willy-nilly ! 

But whatever others may say or do, 

I know I can safely Avorship two, — 

And I love both — Rose and Lily. 



I 



Love's Merry War. 159 



CoME^ strip away these jealous frills 

xVnd folds that hide thy graces ; 

Love needs no lawns and laces 

When passion's fever throhs and thrills 

In hearts consumed by fond desires : 

To such the most enticing charms 

Are those that come with " naked arms " 

To wage such " Merry War '' — as fires 

No soul with hate. E'o.t over graves, 

But gardens gay our white flag waves 

A welcome to all w^ooers true. 

Xot freedom True Love ever craves, — 

For here the happiest are the slaves 

Who hug their chains, — as lovers do. 



i6o Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



%ovc ant) Strite* 

The Past is as dead as the flowers 
Whose fruitage the seasons make sweet, 
Not Aprilj with all of her showers — 
I^ot August's full harvest of heat — 
Can bring hack those vanished perfumes, 
And the glory and grace of dead bloomsi. 

The apple-buds, dimpled in May-time, 
That lured the striped bees from their hives, 
Soon faded away like the pla^^-time 
That gilds the fresh dawn of short lives. 
And the petals, like rose-dreams of lust, 
Lie shredded and shriveled in dust. 

The Dawning comes flashing with glory 
From the verge of a shadowless Day, 
But we know 'tis the often-told storv : — 
Our lives and our loves gather gray. 
And darken and die like an ember 
Quenched under cold snows of December. 

!N'ot the strength of the Titans, up-heaving 
Their shoulders like mountains, could check 



Love and Strife. i6i 

Time's " Juggernaut Wheel/' that is leaving 
The World and its worms but a wreck, 
Pressing out from ripe lives the red wine 
Of the woes Death may render divine. 

The Gods shall forget, in a measure, 
The curses Immortality brings; 
They shall taste for a moment the pleasure 
That is sweeter because of its stings; 
But the hoariest virtues of Heaven 
Shall leave us but sorrows as leaven. 

With the blood that is seething and subtle 

They shall quicken their rusty old brains ; 

Lust and Love weave a web, with Time's shuttle, 

Too dark to show clearly all stains, 

And .the passions of Paradise bring 

With their sweets — thorns thatTankle and sting. 

They shall madden, like mortals', forgetting 
The weight of the glories they bear ; 
Proud Goddesses, moved to coquetting, 
Shall seem to the Gods doubly fair. 
Whose ichor shall gather some glow 
From the lures of such loves as we know 

Touched by fires, undreamed of before, 

The snows of Olympus shall melt; 
II 



i62 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

The blisses, ungarnered of yore, 
Ripening now — shall be fathomed and felt, 
And the light loves to Mankind once given 
Thrill the Gods — nodding nobly in Heaven. 

Do I envv the Gods ?— E'o.t a tittle ! 
Olympns is white with its years ! 
My strivings may seem to them little. 
But pleasures take measure from tears: 
Without Strife's quick parry and thrust, 
The Sword of the Soul would soon rust. 

Even Love hath no fountain unfailing, 
Yielding draughts of unending delight ; 
The Goddess forever unveiline^ 
Her charms, shall the ages not blight? 
IN" ay! The flower that never fades, misses 
The ripening fruition of blisses. 

Yes, even the Gods must grow jaded 

If no changes for better or worse ; 

Let me live 'til life's blossoms have faded, 

But a surfeit of sweets is a curse :— 

And he but a laggard who shares 

The World's kisses — yet blind to its cares. 



A Puzzle in Petticoats. 163 



H lPu33le in petticoats ! 

Brown eyes full of shadowy gleamings 
Soft as twilights tha,t whisper in June, 
Sweet eyes wherein all of my dr earnings 
Seem bathed in the light of May's moon; 
Lips juhilant now with Joy's laughter, 
And now all a-tremble with bliss : — 
First the sunshine of gladness, and after — 
The shadows that shelter a kiss. 

Soft, bonny, brown hair — with a ripple 

Where all its gloom turns into gold, 

Like the dark wines of Chios, whose '' tipple " 

Gladdened pagans and poets of old; 

Eyes soft with the shadow of sadness, 

Like dusk on a slumberous sea, 

Yet lips, whereon Mirth — in her madness — 

Laughed like Love — ^when his wings flutter free. 

Sad eyes and glad lips thus together 
Only mocking the queries we make, 
Whether frolicsome Fairy, or whether 
A sad-hearted Saint for love's sake; 



164 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Are there tears liiddcn under those lashes? 
Are there smiles lurking under those lips ? 
Embers glow under cover of ashes, — 
riowers flash where the precipice dips ! 

Is this gladness but mocking and masking ? 

Is this sadness but semblance of woe 'i 

Scant answers I get for my asking, 

Smiling lips saying ''yes! " — sad eyes ''no! 

And yet there is pleasure in guessinp^ 

At riddles so subtle as this ; 

Doubt at times, it is true, is distressing, 

But Certainty mia'ht not prove — bliss. 

I doubt, for the heart-strings are hidden, 
And the ear of life dull to their tones ; 
Peer not in the Darkness Forbidden 
Where the Past keeps her moldering bones ! 
There rises a wrai.th : say, what was it ? 
Dead loves or dead lusts that arose ? 
Lock the door of Life's " skeleton closet " 
Lest you wake the grim ghos.ts of old woes. 

I doubt, — ^but not beauty like this is, 
I doubt, — but not graces like these ; 
Then give me, oh ! give me your kisses. 



A Puzzle in Petticoats. 165 

And your heart you may share as you please ! 
I would win you, if but for a season 
To gladden my heart as with wine, 
That, though it may unsettle Reason, 
Brings dreams — that — if false — seem divine- 

Your heart may be heavy or hollow, 
Nay ! some I have known who had — none ; 
But the lure of your lips I would follow 
As the meteor fast follows the Jun. 
Those eyes may be sad with a yearning 
For a lover, or a score of them, — lost ; — 
That heart (if you have one) — be burning 
For some scamp you adored to your cost. 

Brown eyes, with tears under their lashes. 
Red mouth, laugliter laid on its lips, — 
Your heart may be — ^' ashes to ashes," 
And your innocence dark wi.th eclipse ; 
But I turn to you still with a yearning 
That only your kisses can still. 
And my heart, whilst it breaks, is still burning 
With the poisonous sweets you distil. 

I would pluck you as Hope plucks the Flower 
Whose thorns leave incurable scars ; 



1 66 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

I would win you, if but for one hour 

To brighten Life's night with Love's stars. 

I doubt, — but not beauty like this is, 

I distrust, — but not graces like these ; 

Then give me, oh ! give me your kisses. 

And your heart you may share as you please! 



The Violet's Appeal. 167 



Xlbe Diolers HppeaL 

(From the German.) 

Came a lassie fair as day, 
Walking down a country way 
Where sweet blossoms met ; 
By the roadside in the grass, 
ISTear where dozens daily pass, 
Bloomed a — Violet, 

Said the lassie : Here I know 

Daily dozens come and go, 

As I often do; 

See this Violet iip-thrust. 

Covered deep with gi'ime and dust, 

Shows her bonnet blue. 

Sighed the maid: Some day a cow 
May come, sweet, as I do now, 
Browsing on thy bloom ; 
From such fate my hand shall wrest 
All thy beauty ; on my breast 
Perish in perfume. 



1 68 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

But the Violet replies: — 

Insincere are all thy sighs, 

Let me rest in peace: — 

If of browsing cows afraid, 

That's no worse fate than to fade — 

Plucked by girls — or geese! 



Limited Li^ibilities and— Abilities. 169 



OLlmtteD XtabtUtles an^— AblUttes* 

(To one of the gigantic Graces.) 

Much too liberal for my taste 
Are such super-human Graces ; 
With such endless worlds of waist — 
Who would dream of fond embraces? 
Dared we yield to such Titanic 
Tenderness as that heart covers, 
Should she even pout — a panic 
Would overwhelm her pigmy lovers. 

Or, to put the matter mildly, 
Let us say, instead of kissing, 
She should hug one of them " wildly,'' 
There would he a lover " missins: " : — 
Lo! what limbs — what mighty muscles! 
Molded firm and fair ; behind them 
Lusty curves that need no " bustles-," 
Where, alas ! so oft we find them. 

Liberal charms she hath and lavish. 
Bounteous breasts and length of limb. 



1 70 Songs ot the Saiikoliiiagas. 

But those lips that mine would ravish. 
Rise above me far and dim : — 
Whom a Goddess loves — ^ere soaring 
To the level of her lips, — 
Let him take good heed lest scoring 
Victory should but quite eclipse 

His faint flame in that large luster 
Which the Gods can face alone ; — 
Rash the mortal who would trust her, 
And unclasp a Dianas zone : — 
Love, whose flame a Goddess kindles, 
All consuming leaves me lost, 
And my mortal passion dwindles 
When I come to count the cost. 

Safer far than Grace or Goddess, 
Is some maiden frail and fond, 
Who, when you unlace her bodice 
(Whjether she's brunette or blonde). 
Does not, though she hug you tightly,' 
Hugging — take away your breath ; 
But a Goddess ravished rightly 
Soon would squeeze one quite to death. 

Love Divine, like Heaven's ire, 

Is a flame that, dazzling, daunts you; 



Limited Liabilities and— Abilities. 171 

Safer far the soft desire, 

That in Lower Realms enchants you. 

Flowers that fade — for us are better 

Than such flames — (more fierce than sweet) ; 

Lightly let me wear Love's fetter 

Whilst my fickle pulses beat ! 

Arms that might embrace a region 
Wider than mine eyes could heed, — 
Bosoms that could nurse a legion 
Lips like mine I do not need ; — 
Such Titanic charms would curdle 
All the busy blood within : , 

Only what my arms can girdle 
Would my passions wear and win. 

E"arrow are Love's wants and wishes, 

1^0 wide world his hopes engage: — 

Feast enough for him one " dish " is, 

And his palace but a cage : 

Too much love, like ,too much liquor, 

Leaves its penalties behind; 

Safest " flames' " are those that flicker ; 

Fickle maids are often kind. 

Love that never roams or ranges, — 
That may suit diviner " swells," 



172 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

But I like to '' ring my changes " 
On a dozen different ^' belles " ) — 
Here to-day, and there to-morrow ; — 
Aye to win — and ne'er to wive 1 — 
Gathering sunshine — never sorrow — 
Tor the Harvest of my Hive I 



To Brunetta from an Old Beau. 173 



Uo Brunetta from an ©lb Beau ! 

Blondes are but pallid blooms at best, sweet 

but to striplings callow; 
Could I not find some dearer quest — I'd let 

Love's fields lie fallow: — 
Cheeks freckled oftener far .than fair, and 

ejes like milk and water, 
With sallow arms and sorrel hair, or blonde — 

that some one bought her. 

But in the dusk of hazel eyes there gleams a 

starry splendor 
That dazzles with a glad surprise the hearts 

that soon surrender; 
Dumb lips more eloquent than speech, and raven 

locks that cluster , 

Above a brow that might impeach the whitest 

marble's luster. 

And graces sweeter e'en than these, with subtle 

charms unspoken, 
They bring poor Cupid to his knees, whilst all 

his darts lie broken : — 



1 74 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Lovers are moths that <seek the flame, — the lass 

is but the candle; 
On her we should not lay the blame if hearts 

prove hard to handle. 

You shine afar like some bright star above 

Life's wildernesses ; 
Love scarcely knows how sweet you are — in 

spite of all his guesses : — 
If Luck but gave me elbow room, — if Life but 

gave me leisure, — 
Fd woo you as the bee the bloom, and hive your 

honeved treasure. 

Dear, dazzled by your splendid c/es, my heart 

still longs and lingers. 
But I have prudent grown and wise since last 

I burned my fingers ; 
Though fairest hands may light the flame no 

less the moth will suffer, — 
Yea, even hearts some kindness claim, though 

they are doubtless tougher. 

Prom blushing buds to bolder blooms I like to 

flutter gaily. 
Tasting hourly of new perfumes, testing* dif- 
ferent gardens daily; 



To Brunetta from an Old Beau. 175 

Your heart's hive may be honey filled with 
sweets frora holt and heather, 

But in Love's lore I'm too well skilled to dare 
Stings leagued together. 

I take what gifts the Gods may give, — what 

favors small the Graces, 
Content if only Hope can live and brighten 

Life's waste places ; 
I like the kindly warmth that cheers, — light 

hearts and facile favors. 
And leave to those of fewer years Hymenial 

'' flats and quavers," 

Though fickle-winged and fast you flit, your 

beauty still bewitches ; 
Sirens — not Saints, you see, best fit in Oupid's 

templed niches ; — 
And I, Brunetta, who have ne'er stooped to wear 

Hymen's fetter, 
Find you perhaps just doubly dear because you 

are — no better! 



176 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Ibpmen ; or, Cupib in Cbatns ! 

All the world was calling Cupid 
Light and lecherous and loose. 
And the God at last grew troubled 
At such undeserved abuse, 
Fearing, like the birds that flutter 
From the scarecrow's meager arms. 
Timid Beauty might be frightened 
By these faJse but fierce alarms. 

With the Passions in the pillory, 
And the Graces prison-bound. 
Every fickle Fancy tethered, 
Every Queen of Hearts discrowned ;- 
Wliere could Cupid find a shelter 
From the scandal-mongers then, 
Who had chased Love helter-skelter 
From the dark abodes of men ? 



Sick of sanctimonious sinners, 
Worried by the hypocrites, — 
To escape from all these troubles 



i 



Hymen ; or, Cupid in Chains. 177 

Cupid puzzled Lis poor wits ; 
But when timid Love must battle 
With a host of heartless Hates, 
Scant the "' laurels " that he gathers 
From the hungry-handed Fates. 

Beauty thus at last gave counsel, 
Blushing deep with conscious shame: 
There is but one chance, Dear Cupid, 
You must straightway change your name ; 
We must clip and bind your winglets 
With some matron's locks of hair, 
We must break or blunt your arrows, — 
But your " beau " ? — well, that we'll spare. 

You must give up all flirtations, 
Frolics in the moonlit nights ; 
Home-made pottage — not potations. 
Homespun peitticoats — not " tights ;'' 
Cut the clubs, all sirens banisli ; 
Give up poetry — stick to prose: — 
All your troubles, Dear, will vanish,-^ 
If as Hymen you " propose.'' 

Thus she said, and having spoken, 

Cupid bent his weary head ; 

One could see his heart was broken, 
12 



178 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Though 'twas only " yes " he said : 
Since the cruel Fates have forced him 
Thus to banish all '^ fast friends/' 
With a " lass '' we know, commences 
Love, and with " alas ! " — it ends. 

]^o bright smiles and sparkling ''sillery," 

]N"o long lookings in soft eyes ; 

With the Passions in the pillory, 

'Tis no w^onder that he sighs ; 

His old friends would never know him, 

Sad of wit and short of wing: — 

Hymen — is poor Love in fetters, 

Tied to woman's apron-string. 

Lacking " cents," i,t is quite certain 

Love can be but Hymen's hack, 

And " Alack ! " must be the ending 

That commences with " a lack 1 " 

" Tied " must wait, though Time will 

hasten 
Onward to the days that bring, 
N'ot the saintly griefs that chasten, 
But the debts and doubts that sting. 

Love, who once was lord and lover, 
Full of laughter, life and song, 



Hymen ; or, Cupid in Chains. 179 

iS^ow you hardly could discover 
In this wight who limps along, 
Sour of visage, wrinkled, rusted ; 
Thus to grief his glory turns ; 
And the God who blindly trusted,- - 
'Now high-menial labor learns. 



i8o Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



THE GLOAMING. 



%ovc •ff:)opele05. 

Love came to me laughing, ay, laughing for- 
sooth, 

And his toying seemed joying, — his fables 
seemed truth ; 

He proffered a goblet — that made my head 
swim, 

Though I sip'd but the bubbles .that broke at 
the brim. 

Drink deeper, he cried, — there is luck in the 

lees ; 
And I quaffed and I quaffed, 'til I sank on 

my knees 
To a maiden, — a maiden — the fairest of earth, 
Wlio bade me drink deeper, for " Love " was 

but Mirth ! 

I came to Hope weeping, bewailino; the lust 
That had trampled the roses of passion in 
dust ; — 



Love Hopeless. i8i 

O ! Love is a Demon, not the Devil's self worse, 
His lures are but lies, and his kisses a curse ! 

O ! give me back, Love, all tlie pleasures I crave, 
The dreams of my youth, and the riches I gave ! 
What bliss could I miss with the dearest one 

there ? 
But alas, I discovered that Love — was Despair. 



1 82 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 
%ovc an^ 5eaIov\5^! 

(From the German.) 

When man was first invented, he 

A sufferer long from ennui ; 

Indeed our earliest Gospel saith 

He nearly bored himself to death: 

Scant brains he had and fewer books, 

There were no vintners and no cooks ; 

He hadn't even learned to woo 

The woman, — who was then quite — 'New. 

Lord Christ, who knew Creation's plan, 
And saw the Gods unjust to Man, 
Devoutly falling on his knees 
Thus to the Father made his pleas: 
The Earth, he cried, is sunk in gloom, 
And Man disgusted with his doom; 
Oh ! let me send from Heaven above 
To cheer their darkness Liffht and Love. 



^to' 



With Light to bless from samlit skies. 
With Love to wisely shut their eyes, 



Love and Jealousy. 183 

The World, at once, so merry grew 
It made the Gods by contrast — blue; 
For it must frankly be confessed 
Long prayers put patience to the test, 
And glory, grandeur, style and state 
Must weary soon the Good and Great. 

With Light to guide and Love to grace 
So happy grew the Human race, 
They laughed to scorn the Gods above 
Who now had lost the Angel Love: 
By contrast with Heaven's solemn rites. 
The Earth seemed full of gay delights; 
The jealous Gods resented this. 
And counseled how to blight Man's bliss. 

How best to punish Man and Maid 

The " Lords " long pondered : — Love, afraid 

Of being put in ^^ leading strings " 

Again in Heaven, usied her wings. 

And clearly showed imperious Jove 

She much preferred to lightly rove 

In E-arthly fields, — to playing precise, 

The model Prude of Paradise. 

To lure back Love — as still they failed — 
The Gods before this question quailed; 



184 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Yet Earth witli this one gift of Heaven 
Rivaled their glory, if no leaven ■ 
They yet might find wherewith to raise 
The Devil in a thousand ways, 
And by some poison or some spell 
Convert Earth's Heaven to a — Hell. 

At last in their despair and doubt, 
Old Satan, who was once kicked out 
Of Heaven, was called on for advice. 
As he was learned in every vice. 
And thus this Prince of Darkness spoke: — 
I've got a plan now in my '' poke " ; 
Among my servants and my slaves — 
Some few were nobles, but most — Knaves; 

Yet one there is, once Prince of Pride, 

Who ever faithful by my side 

Hath stood and served me zealously; — 

In Hell we call him — Jealousy. 

This cruel spirit let me send 

To live on Earth with Love — as friend 

And comrade: — all of Love's sweet foison 

With incantations he can poison. 

The very best of True Love's blisses 
He turns to venom with fierce hisses 



Love and Jealousy. 185 

Of doubt and hate : this single vice 

Wonld wreck the fairest Paradise ! 

The Gods consented, and on Earth, 

Where Love once brought but Hope and Mirth, 

Xow Jealousy, who's ever near. 

Breathes in the hapeless lover's ear — 

Such cruel fears and hateful doubts 
That when a maiden sighs or pouts, 
At once he sees his rivals share 
Her fondest favors ; and Despair 
Steps in and bids him curse his fate 
Lor — Trusting \Yoman ! — Since this date, 
Love linked Avith Jealousy is worse 
Than all and every other curse. 

And Earth, that once with Love supreme, 
Was sweeter than the Gods can dream, 
Xow makes even Hell by contrast sweet- 
In spite of all its drouth and heat. 
Ear better shun the rose-strewn ways 
That lead to bowers where Beauty stays, 
Than feel those pangs the Jealous must, 
Who — ever loving — never trust. 



1 86 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



flmpatient^ 

Ever impatient ? — Yes, so let it be, 
I feel my fetters — yet I would be free; 
A prison pens me, tliongh my soul aspires 
To purge itself in Purgatorial fires, 
Thence rising undismayed to meet the End, 
Where God stands steadfast, ready to extend — 
'Not only Hope, but Help — to him who wins 
A lifelong warfare waged agains,t all sins. 

Impatient? — Yes, of all these frauds and 

fools, — 
Of all these cunning schemes and crazy 

schools : — 
Of all these howling hypocrites and cleric curs 
Who'd win God's races with the Devil's 



spurs ;- 

these 

swill, 



Of all these hogs and hounds who swell and 



Yet make their betters ever foot the bill. 

Impatient of these wicked wasps that sting; 
" Dirt-daubers " all, that gather mud to fling 



Impatient. 187 

On cleaner lives, and thus with Dirt's help dare 
To prove by contrast that Their record's fair. 
Impatient of assassins who dare face no foe, 
Yet sheathe their daggers in the heart of woe, 
Stabbing with '' They say," who is but the 

mate — 
False and unfathered — of their own mean hate. 

Impatient of these Robbers' Eights, and Robbed 

Men's wrongs ; — 
Of thriving thieves who fclould be scourged with 

thongs ; — 
Of selfish Sovereigns — things of commonest 

clay- 
Crowned with dim glories of a long Dead 

Day;— 
For — if these Kings w^ere Royal — as were 

right — 
Crow^ns would be heavy and Scepters would bo 

lic^ht. 

Impatient ? — Yes, of all these sins of self, 
That barter true honors for the pride and pelf 
Of mud-made millionaires — rotten and rust- 
ed, — 
Who thrive on ^' Trusts " — that — never could 
be trusted. 



1 88 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Impatient, too, of Statesmen who set snares 
To bribe the ^'Millions" for the— '' Million- 
aires.'' 

In spite of all our Science and our Schools, 
One Fraud still fattens on a thousand Fools ; — 
And if the Gods no Savior soon shall send, — 
Impatien,t, yes, impatient of the ~Enb, 
When all this rotten Fabric shall one ruin 

share ; — 
For even Death itself is better than Despair! 



A Contented Cynic. 189 



H Contented) Cpnic. 

Friendship fools and Love betrays 
In a dozen different ways; 
Nature — Knowledge — these alone 
Make life's best gifts all our own. 
Half the blessings mortals choose 
Even .the lesser Gods refuse, 
Knowing that what men most prize 
Leave them only loss and sighs. 

Pluck me blossoms fair and fine, 
Fill my bumpers full of wine ; 
Friends with feasts are fitted best, 
But no comrades stand the test: 
In my cellar's scented gloom 
In my gardens bloom on bloom, 
Eosy draughts that never end, 
But I cannot find — one friend. 

Nay! Not so: — these Flowers fair. 
Sweeter than the fickle fair ; 
And this wine — a friend that brings 
Back the sunshine of dead Springs. 



1 90 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Let inc snatcli the bliss that flies 
Ere 'tis lost in alien skies ; 
Love and Friendship — I resign, 
If you leave me flowers and wine. 

Worldlings keep wdiat v^^ealth hath brought; 
Man — and maid can both be bought: 
Be my gifts — wdiat Nature yields, 
Fruit and Flowers of the fields ; 
Friendship means a bargain w^here 
Biggest fraud gets biggest share; 
Love a rose — that wisdom scorns, 
Knowing w^ell its fretful thorns. 

I shall miss the w^orld's worst scars 
If I trust but flowers and stars ; 
In my Eden bring no Eve — 
Lest my heart should learn to grieve. 
Friends are not like stars that show 
Brightest when the shadoAVS grow ; — 
Love, too, like the Moon, my dear, 
Only comes when skies are clear. 



Sold Out. 191 



SolC) ©lit 

IVe rambled often far-afield, 

Piped many a rustic ditty, 
But weary now of wanderino- yield 

Forced tribute to the city. 
Again, my fortune on my back, 

I tramp the streets and alleys, 
And half forget the woodland track 

That leads to heights and valleys. 

I've found a room to suit the taste 

Of one who's not rheuma,tic, 
With gilded furnishings ungraced, 

A dim-lit ten-foot attic ; 
Here high above the dust and din 

I see the blue skies over. 
And when the stars peep shyly in, 

Can dream of corn and clover. 

From roof to roof I hear the cats 
Their nuptial music miawling, 

When sunbeams slip through window-slats 
I hear the sparrows calling, 



192 Songs of the Sahkohiiagas. 

And down six stories, in the slum, 
Where never prayer or peace is, 

I hear the city's busy hum, — 
A sigh that never ceases. 

Across the crowded roofs I look. 

Past many a dome and steeple, 
And seem to read, as in a book, — 

The hearts of all the people 
Who toil and traffic, save and spend. 

Yet so few knots unravel ; 
Beyond where streets and alleys end — 

Their sad souls never travel. 

But I, at sunset looking far — 

Through shadows ever shifting, 
See under yonder evening star 

Dim crests their white crowns lifting; 
Methinks I hear the huntsman's horn — 

The ploughman's merry whistle. 
See ragged-robin in the corn, 

And goldfinch on gray thistle. 

And underneath yon cloudy crest 

That in blue ridges billows, 
Fve found forsooth a dainty nest — 

Hedged round by oaks and willows; 



Sold Out. 193 

When street-lamps flash in many a. row, 

The welcome dusk beginning, 
I see a lass, — whom well I know, — 

Her hank of brown flax spinning. 

She sits and spins a thin fine thread, 

And seems to sing beside me ; 
Deft fingers, that so lightly sped, 

With gossamers have tied me ; 
ISTo fetters wrought by sturdy steel 

Could half as firmly hold me ; — 
Ah ! now in happy dreams I feel 

That loving arms enfold me. 

But no ; — say what you will of Love, 

He is no boy light-hearted. 
With all the Graces ^' hand and glove," 

And true to friends departed : — 
Let those who have the money mock 

At those w^ho lack a dinner ; 
Gold keys can even hearts unlock; — 

My rival — ^won the Spinner. 



194 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



'Cborns auD IRoses, 

One day — in years long over — 1 wandered far 

afield, 
To look for Love the Rover, and see what gifts 

he'd yield ; 
For some had told me Flovrers he brought on 

golden morns, 
But some, in darker hours, declared he gave 

but Thorns. 

But I, too dull for doubting, or .trusting Cupid's 

clue. 
All riper counsels flouting, felt Love would lead 

me through ; 
And so I followed laughing light lures that led 

me far, 
Hope's fountain deeply quaffing beneath Love's 

rising star. 

But stars will fade and vanish, and fountains 

sometimes fail ; 
Hope's " chateau " rather ^' Spanish " for feasts 

of beef and ale; 



Thorns and Roses. 195 

Indeed in '^ Cupid's cottage " — a crazy hut at 
best, 

So lean at last tlie pottage — 'twill lure no hun- 
gry guest. 

Were heads forever level, were hearts forever 
true. 

Love still might safely revel yet never lose 
Luck's clue ; 

But — if in dulcet hours — your heart ripe Wis- 
dom scorns, 

Be sure, — Love's sweetest flowers shall leave 
but rankling thorns. 



196 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Hate hath no deeper Hells than these 

Damned depths of Passion's fierce despair; | 

Graces that gull us — smiles that snare ; — * 

Not stars to guide o'er stormy seas, , 

But Sirens softly singing where 1 

Death crawls and creeps about their knees, 

And in their white arms takes his ease, 

Full-fed upon their bosoms bare. 

Than Love — Life hath no greater foe ; 

A treacherous stream — whose dark floods flow 

Through Passion's poisoned Paradise; 

And yet, as all men learn to know, — 

In love what witcheries of woe : — 

Bliss crowned with briars, — is Love's device. 



To Linette. 197 



Uo Xinette. 

A DAINTY little maid was she, 

With eyes — like tliose brown chinquapins 

That in the Autumnal days we see — 

When first the leafy gold begins 

To gild the spreading ches.tnut tree. 

Yet more : — as round those nutty node 
A bristling hedge of burs is set, 
So she, in spite of love-star lodes 
That drew blind hearts into her net. 
Rebuffs in varying moods and mode? 

Tender, yet not by passion stirr'd, 

!N'ay more ; — through all her winning ways, 

Her heart wings, like a prisoned bird, 

Seek freedom, and her fancy strays 

ISTot far — when " wooing " is the word. 

Like white Parnassias that shun 
The summer's warmer wooing, she 
Unfolds no petals to the sun, 
But keeps her maiden fancies free 
As any Vestal could have done. 



198 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Her days slip by in placid guise, 
Her brow is smooth, her heart is quiet, 
As though Love's tides, that kiss the skies, 
Could ne'er by any chance run riot 
With storms that only Age defies. 

Doubtless the hour shall come that wakes 
Her soul to rosier hopes and dreams ; — 
Upon her sleeping heart there breaks 
Love's Dawning with effulgent beams, — 
A wondrous oriflamme that shakes 

Its fiery folds above the Land 

Wliere Eros reigns — the Lord of All : — 

There Youths and Maidens, hand in hand, 

Feel sure but blisses can befall 

Glad hearts that on its threshold stand. 

But I, who found this bud so sweet 
Half turned to welcome April's shower. 
Shall never in the summer heat 
Gather the gift of Love's full flower, 
Or feel her quickening pulses beat. 

My dreams are buriod ; — her's but begin 
To brighten through Youth's magic mist; 
I hold no golden lures to win 



To Linette. 19Q 

Those budding graces jet unkissed : 
Into mj life no joys slip in 

To brighten years that fast grow dark 
With gray disasters and defeats ; 
Hope faltering fades, a dying spark, — 
The levin leaps, the billow beats. 
And whelms unpiloted my bark. 

Some day, in years to come perchance, 

She — wedded long — and I long dead, 

In passing she may give a glance 

And mark the faded blossoms shed 

On the white tombstone, w^here — in trance — 

My soul lay slumbering: yet in dim 
Halt dreaming fashion shall I hear 
Her footfall ; in the Darkness grim 
Even faint whisperings bring some cheer 
Should she but sigh: — I once knew him! 



200 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



IRo H^mtttance• 

Just where tlie streets cross at right angles, 

I heard a footfall — light and springing* 

Suddenly all the dusk seemed singing 

With nightingales, and starry spangles 

Stole double radiance from Apollo. 

I caught a glimpse of amber tresses — 

And fluttering skirts, that helped my guesses, 

And so at once essayed to follow. 

But as I reached the door, perdition! 

There stood a butler of condition. 

To grant you entrance with due flourish; 

And I shut out, my last wish wilted, 

Like some poor lover lately jilted. 

My jealous doubts in darkness nourish. 



Two of a Kind. 201 



Uwo ot a Iktnt). 

If you'd only stab me, darling, with a dagger — 
not a look, 

I wouldn't care ; but snarling or a sneer I can- 
not brook. 

Your ends you'll never compass if you'll sit 

there like a mouse ; 
But if you'd raise a rumpus — you might scare 

me from the house. 

You should sometimes air your curses — give 
them meat and mother's milk, 

And pillory my verses — as " strayed revelers " 
clad in silk. 

It's patience plainly wasted — this pretending 

to be sweet, 
For we both have fully tasted — all the bitters 

of defeat. 

If you have lost your lover, why I have lost my 

lass, 
And we neither can recover, whatever may come 

to pass. 



202 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

We have followed fickle Fancy from liis cradle 

to his grave, 
And Passion's necromancy can no longer salve 

or save. 

There's no love lost between ns, wc can both 

show scabs and scars ; — 
And if I have lost my Venus, why you have 

found your Mars. 

I do not grudge your cavalier — if he'll but pay 

your debts; 
But then you should not snub, my dear, my bevy 

of " Brevets." 



A Thievish Grace. 203 



H XTbievisb (Brace. 

Why, wliat a little thief \o\\ are ! 
Your glances stolen from some star 
That Heaven set to watch Love's bowers ; 
Your lips, on which my longings thrive, 
Have stolen sweets from every hive, — 
Filched frao-rance from Spring's fairest flowers. 
Your cheeks have ravished from the Eose 
The daintiest blush the summer brought, 
And in your tangled tresses caught — 
The sunset's golden glamour grows. 
Your eyes have stolen Heaven's own blue, 
Your teeth, I'm sure, are pilfered pearls; — 
Your bosom, veiled but half by curls, — 
Hath robbed the lily of its hue. 

You thrive on thefts from Heaven and Earth, 

For Venus watched you from your birth. 

And Fortune feasted every whim; 

Until you've lightly learned to think 

Of even Hymen's golden link: — 

Why should your '' Highness " bow to him ? 



204 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

A goddess is not bound by vows ! 

Upon your altar Glory lays 

The greenest of his hard-won bays : — 

To Beauty even Honor bows ! 

For you glib falsehoods whispers Truth ;- 

And now, though legions are your slaves, 

One victory more your fancy craves, 

And you would steal my heart, forsooth. 

You'd steal a poet's heart, to-day, 
To-morrow cast its wealth away 
As lightly as a withered bloom ; 
You'd lure me with a treacherous kiss 
To leap into Love's deep abyss, 
Then laughing leave me to my doom. 
O ! fairest witch that ever wore 
Heaven's livery in Hell's behalf, — 
Wlien lovers die you only laugh; — 
'Tis but one added to the score. 
O ! sweetest thief that ever throve 
On stolen sw^eets from earth and sky, — 
Give but one kiss, — that when I die — 
That one shall be my treasure-trove. 

But no, — I dare not press those lips, 
The touch of even your finger tips 



A Thievish Grace. 205 

Would set my very soul on fire; 
Once savoring the sweets you bring, 
To miss the fuller feast would sting 
And stab me deeper with desire. 
If now with jealous pangs I burn, 
^Miat deeper depths of dark despair, 
To measure — kiss by kiss — the share 
That falls to those you never spurn. 
I would these doubts could steel my heart, 
But you have stolen strength and truth; — 
My Age — plays lackey to your Youth, — 
Though Hope shall never heal love's smart. 



2o6 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



H Sono of Silence* 

Ye Gods, if I could only reach 

Some realm iinracked by Iniman speech, 

Where all the gossips were quite dumb, 

And folk but talked by ^' rule of thumb/' 

Fingers alone to help us out ; 

Why, then we'd stick to facts, no doubt, 

And falsehoods (even Fashion's fibs), — 

Stripped naked to their very bibs. 

Would learn, perhaps, at last to blush 

When saintly Silence whispered — Hush! 

O ! wiser World, whence wicked words 

Are ever banished, whilst the birds 

Sing fetterless and free the songs 

That soothe and salve all lesser wrongs. 

A world — where Music's magic brings 

Love's olive-branch on sounding wings 

From glad shores (nearing through the dark) 

To prisoned souls in storm-tossed Ark: — 

The whispering winds — the sighing seas, 

What clearer phophecies than these ? 



A Song of Silence. 207 

A wordless World, from Scandal freed, 
Where Love but sighs or smiles his screed; 
'No specious frauds misleading Youth, 
No Orators playing tricks Avith Truth; 
No hypocritical pulpiteers 
Poisoning with lies the longest ears, 
Bribing dull wits (that lack all leaven) 
With promised '^ Dividends " in Heaven : — 
Barr'd out all racket and all rhyme, 
Even poets reduced to — pantomime. 

If this '^ unruly member " clipp'd 

How many sins were safely skipp'd ; 

If once we tie Temptation's Tongue 

The Devil's own darlings all die young; 

Few fools the Sirens overreach 

By song — but many a one by — Speech : 

Stripp'd of all treacherous Eloquence — 

Politics would change from Sound to Sense, 

And empty hands grow strong enough 

To seize rich rascals by the scruff. 

More dangerous than the Soldier's blade 
Your Orator's tongue — by Party paid; 
Wit, battling in behalf of — Might, 
Hath often slain dull-witted Right: 
If all the good were wise and brave, 



2o8 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

And cracked-brained cowards every Knave, 
Long since — in this sad world of ours, — 
We'd find no thorns left — only flowers: — 
But following Falsehood, for a fee, 
Free Speech, alas, hath grown too free. 

Therefore, I hold the Gods unwise 
To give us Speech that leads to lies : 
Enough to gladden worlds like ours 
The sight of sun — clouds — mountains — flow- 
ers, — 
Colors and contours — ^glow and grace — 
To cheer and charm the human race ; 
With sighs of winds — and songs of birds. 
And Music's might — that wants no words 
To thrill the soul, needing no tongue 
To tell the paeans Seraphs sung. 

Hark to the chafing Seas that chant 

Requiems to shores of adamant ! 

Hark to the wordless Winds, whose glees 

Set dancing leagues of leafy trees ! 

Hark to the " Spheres " we yet may reach" 

Beyond all hope or help of speech ! 

The stars in silence prophesy 

Dim secrets of the darkest sky ; 

And when at last Death's shadows come. 

Behold, our Conqueror, too, is dumb! 



Oblivion. 209 



If after life's weary vigil, 
Witli watchings long and waiting 
Through lagging years that creep 
(Hope lame and even Love half hating), 
Comes — to end all sorrows — Death's soft sleep ; 
Why should we weep ? 

After life's stress and struggle, 

Sharp wounds and woeful wars, 

And miseries that never cease, — 

Comes now — ^to heal all scars — 

Death's victory, that hringeth peace; — 
Oh, glad release ! 

After the chances and mischances 

Of lost games played with loaded dice, 
Shall we not hold as best 

Escape from inextinguishable vice, 
And welcome Death — as rest ? 

Why further quest ? 

Is it not better to surrender 
The blind God's empty gift 



210 Sonets of the Sahkohnai^as 



J^O VX LliV^ .^CVliIVWlAXXCI,^C 



That leaves us half undone, 

Than striving vainly loads to lift 
That wiser shoulders shun ? 

The shroud's soon spun ! 

Does the lean harvest merit 

Half the long labor borne 
Through bitter — baleful years ? 

With hands and hearts out-worn 
Even triumphs turn to tears ; 

Life's sorrow sears ! 

Is this life then so radiant 

That we dread the next 
May to our sad souls darker seem ? 

Ah, Death is kindly, and the Dead unvexed 
By even the shadow of a dream : 

Why toil and scheme ? 

If hopes end — so do doubtings ! 

If smiles fade — tears soon dried ; 
1^0 shadows darken if no dazzling sun: 

'Tis only human vanity and pride 
That shrink from soft oblivion 

Through sweet Death won. 



April and December. 211 



Hprtl ant) December/ 

Let April fool us, if she will, 

With smiles so very arch; 
One thing is sure, for good or ill, 

She can't be bad as March, — 
That blustering — boastful month that claims 

To be the '^ first of Spring," 
Though dark December often shames 

The sunshine he can bring. 

'No doubt even April's promised gifts — 

Will often prove quite scanty; 
Her violets hidden under drifts 

Of snow — that well might daunt a 
Poor lover who had wandered out 

To find his girl a flower; — 
First comes a kiss and then a pout,— 

First STins-hine then a shower. 

And so it goes, — sunshine and snows, — 
The ficklest month of all the Twelve; 

Hardly a single blossom blows — 
Though busily the Gardeners delve; 



212 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

This Maiden Month of all the year 
So changeful is — though charming, 

JSTow almost melting to a tear, 
And now with smiles disarming. 

So maidens in their tender '^ teensj' 

Allure us with shy graces. 
Whilst Love paints all his dearest scenes' 

In Hope's half -hidden places; 
"No bold avowals in broad Day — 

Where Gossip's ear can hearken, 
But in close coverts far away — 

When Dusk begins to darken.. 

Such covert kisses sweeter are 

Than Passion's riper gifts, . 
That on such gentle souls would jar 

As on May's roses — drifts 
Of snow belated — falling fast; 

Ah ! timid maids, remember — 
The Summer will not always last, — 

And Hearts have their December. 

Let April fool us all she can ; 

I've had too much of schooling 
From stern Experience — as a Man, 

And now I tliiuk some fooling 



April and December. 213 

And follies, touched with fondness, might 

Bring back those golden hours 
When first I marked young Cupid's flight 

Through fields of April flowers. 

From all thj- honeyed harvests bring, 

Oh, Love's dawn, as a token, 
One blossom of the bounteous Spring, 

A bud but erstwhile broken ; 
Yet as I breathe its sweet perfume, 

My heart, alas, remembers 
My life for Aprils hath no room, — 

But only for Decembers ! 



'214 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



GLEAm^GS. 



/iDabsour tbe /iDiset* 

In Accad, the long-forgotten land — 
In Nippur, the city long buried in sand — 
Lived Mansour, the Miser, in ages old, — 
And worshiped the Forty Gods and Gold • 
Year by year grew his golden store. 
And day by day would he pray for more. 

Fearing that others would win his wealth. 
He would wander into the wastes by stealth, 
There in some desert's hidden cave. 
Would bury the gems and gold men crave; 
In wretched rags he would steal away 
To the coverts close where his treasures lay. 
And grasping all his lean hands could hold 
Gloat over the glint of his buried gold. 

Richer and richer he grew with years. 

And he knew no loves — no hopes — no fears, 

Save the growing dread tha,t some clown or king 



Mansour the Miser. 215 

By chance might light on the hidden Thing, — 
On the gold and gems that held control 
Of his narrow life and his sordid sonl. 



And it so befell — as he plann'd and schemed, 
He fell asleep, and in sleep he dreamed ; 
Yea, the Forty Gods — from Bab to Bel — 
The golden gates unlocked ; and the spell 
Of darkness broken. Where the seas stretched 

blue, 
Lo ! in dreams his fancies southward flew, 
And a hundred leagues from the barren shores 
Where the date palm waves and white surf 

roars, 
See! an island gleams in the glittering sun. 
And he felt that the Golden Goal was won. 

Surely might Mansour trust to Bel, 
And the Forty lesser Gods as ^vell ; 
Heaven has sent him signs to show 
Where the island's golden shores would glow 
Like a beacon over the waves afar. 
Blindly but bravely he'd follow his star ; 
Across the waste and over the waves — 
Lie ever the lands that the lost soul craves. 



2i6 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Down to the Haven Mansour went, 

And he found a- craft with its sails all bent ; 

There was food and drink in the narrow hold, 

And the trade soon made and the vessel sold. 

The sea was calm and the breeze was fair, 

And his hopes made him bold to do and dare. 

Never a sailor needed he 

To guide his craft o'er the silent sea, 

ISTever should other eyes behold 

This gift of the Gods — the Land of Gold. 

Haven and home, and palace and palm, 
Sink in the North, and the seas are calm ; 
Only a soft breeze bloAv-e to the south. 
And bears him away from the Harbor's mouth. 
Night after night he sees afar 
The Golden Isle like a rising star; 
Night after night the great God Bel, 
And the Forty lesser Gods as well, 
Gladden his dreams with the spell of Gold : 
And the warm winds laugh as his sails unfold. 
Unfold like the wings of the Dove at dark — 
That brought Hope's help to the drifting Ark. 

But the crumbs grow fewer day by day, 

And water fails ; — let Mansour pray. 

For his throat burns now with a growing thirst. 



Mansour the Miser. 217 

Yet the Gods are good and he's known the worst, 

For over the seas there shines afar 

The haven of hope with its golden bar * 

Over the horizon's level rim 

A gleam as of sunrise dawns on him ; 

Nearer and nearer the shores of gold 

That glitter with glories as jet untold, 

And his bark, as he reaches the Promised Land, 

Is beached on a beach of golden sand. 

Of golden sands are the gleaming shores, 
Of molten gold is the stream that pours ; 
The rocks are of gold, and instead of shells 
Diamonds and rubies, — where the blue surge 

swells, — 
Girdle this Land with gems that gleam 
Eicher than ever Fancy's dream; 
Liquid gold all the rivers run, 
The summits out-dazzle the shimmering sun : — 
Dazed by these growing glories first, 
Mansour forgets both hunger and thirst, 
Only sees like a Heaven imrolled — 
This glorious gleaming realm of Gold 

Forgotten the Forty Gods and Bel ; 
Dazzled and dazed by the golden sp^ll, 
'He worships only the wealth he sees ; 



2i8 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Crouching low, on his bended knees, 
He kissed the bright gems one bj one, — 
Each a splinter cleft from some shattered sun: 
Hugs to his heart, with his clutching hands. 
Heap after heap of the golden sands, — 
And what his lean fingers cannot hold — 
Rains down in a shimmering shower of gold ; — 
'N'O elusive fancies — or follies — these, 
For he wades in wealth to his very knees, 
And gloats with glad eyes on the jeweled gleams 
And glories that far outstrip all dreams. 

'But hunger and thirst again awake ; — 
By some cool spring will his parched throat 

slake : 
Under the shadow of fruitful trees 
Will he. eat his fill and be at ease, 
Monarch of more than the mints of man 
Could have coined since this little world began. 
Sole Lord of the Land of Gems and Gold, 
What else for hope could the heavens hold ? 

But never a tree shows near or far, 

A golden beach and a golden bar, 

'Not a green growth graces this wealth untold, 

And when he bends where the river rolled. 

The liquid gold sets his lips on fire 



Mansour the Miser. 219 

With redoubled thirst, and again desire 
Awakes in his soul for the gifts life brings; 
For homes that shelter — for hearts that love, 
For the Graces of Earth and the stars above ; 
But here — where the Gates of Gold unfold — 
ISTo glory or grace save the gift of gold : 
Wealth drops in waves from his finger tips, 
But no drop of water to moisten his lips. 

And his thirst grows keener: — What is wealth 

worth ? 
WTiat he lone-s for now is the life of Earth. 
What are the Gods who " give " — to him ? 
What is this Gold but a Despot grim ? 
^Sijy worse, a Devil who mocks his hurt ! 
What are these diamonds but dross and dirt ? 
Liquid gold ! — could the Gods send worse 
To the thirsting soul that they meant to curse ? 
Gladly he'd barter all these lands 
With their rubied rocks and their golden sands, 
For one fresh draught from some woodland 

spring — 
Where the blossoms bud and the birdlings sing. 

Minute by minute his thirst grows worse: 
Life is despair, yet death a curse, 



220 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

A curse unending — tliat leaves no hope ; — 
Where the soul forever must grieve and grope, 
Grope in the darkness that — near or far — 
Shows no faint gleam of a rising star. 
Never a glimpse of good deeds done 
Comes like the glow of a dawning sun ; 
!N^ever a heart-throb from his youth, 
!N^ever a gleam of Trust or Truth. 

Here with his lean and grasping hands 
Clutching wildly the golden sands, 
Here with his thirsting lips burned bare 
By the liquid gold ; — in his dark despair 
He dies, — and dying — finds no spell 
Save curses fresh from the Heart of Hell; 
In his last gasp — he damns great Bel, 
And the Forty lesser Gods as well. 



Harold Fair hair. 221 



IbarolD ffatrbatr! 

King Harold Fairhair lies below 
The Ocean's sleepless billows, 
Upon a breast of sunless snow — 
His weary head he pillows; 
The years may come, the years may go, 
But still the King lies dreaming, 
Untouched by time's unceasing flow, 
The same in outward seeming. 

The gold yet glitters in his hair, 

His ruddy cheek unfaded, 

Though in his dreamy eyes a stare — 

As though some sorrow shaded 

His soul, which yet at times would strive 

To break the spells that bind him ; 

His heart beats only half alive ; 

'Tis thus the sea-nymphs find him. 

Yet, though they sing their Siren songs 
To deafened ears, — half waking, 
At times, — in shadowy dreams he longs 
For some Dawn's sunburst breaking; 



222 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

He sees afar the rocky capes, 
And hears the battle's thunder; — 
A thousand fierce and flying shapes 
Steal to the caves far under, — 

And whisper of the world above, — * 

Its riotings and roses : — 

He dreams again of earthly love ; — 

The golden gate uncloses, 1 

And to his caverned couch steals in 

A gleam of sunlight shifting; 

Stirred by some battle's distant din. 

His mighty sword uplifting, 

He rises ; but about him twist, — 

In soft and snaky coilings, — 

White arms, and pallid lips have kissed 

Away all taste for toilings; 

He dimly sees the Water Fay — 

Above his white couch bending, — ^ 

Sinks back; soon quenched this glimpse of 

day,— i 

In deeper darkness ending. " 

i 



The Blossom's Boast. 223 



TLbc JSlossom's Boast I 

And do jou fancy, — says the Flower 

(In such soft whispers few can hear her), 

That we are blind to sun and shower ? 

To golden days when Spring draws nearer, — 

And winds are warm — and skies grow clearer? 

Do you imagine that a Rose 
Or Lilv — have as little feelinoj 
As Monster Maji, who laughing — sows 
The World with woes: — Lies, Murder, Steal- 
ings- 
Dishonest Thoughts — as well as Dealing — ? 

In your conceit, no doubt you hold, — 
Having counted pistil — stamen — petal, — 
That all our secrets have been told. 
And stand upon your (mental) mettle, 
To prove you know just how to settle 

All of Dame Nature's outs and ins, 

And ups and downs ; her inmost meanings ; 

How Matter ends, — when Life begins; — 



224 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

What are Hope's gifts, and what Love's glean- 
ings 
From Lust's Augean Stable's cleanings. 

But " Flowers " know that Fools are silly 
Beyond all reach of floral ^' greenness " ; — 
Roses " blush for you/' and the Lily 
Would scorn a mortal Monarch's meanness 
As typical of Man's uncleanness. 

Hold your heads high and trample under 
Soiled feet the Blossom's fragile grace ! 
That Brutes are brutal — is no w^onder! — 
But you — who boast of higher race — 
Shall turn to dust in our embrace! 

We never studied Greek or Latin — 
We build no churches — wage no wars; — 
But on your " Highnesses " we'll fatten ; — 
And whether Soldier, Saint or Sage 
We whelm you under age after age! 

'Then go and count your pilfered pelf, — 
Your reddened Swords and rusted Crowns, 
And try to ask your " better self " — 
(Whether one blossom on the downs 
Is not worth half a score of clowns ! 



The Shabby Genteel. 225 



Zbc Sbabl)^ Genteel ! 

My farm is more rockj than rich, 
With fields of precipitious pitch; 
'No harvests of gold they reveal 
To rescue the — Shabby Genteel. 

My cottage^ once somewhat ornate, 
Is — fifty years now out of date, 
And the road to it rattles your wheel 
Should you visit the Shabby Genteel. 

My carpets and curtains look worn, 
The seat of the sofa is ix)rn, 
My platter is tin, and my fork is of steel. 
For I'm one of the — Shabby Genteel. 

My dinner is not like the Queen's, 
But usually bacon and beans ; 
ISTo " crusted port " shall I unseal, 
For I'm one of the — Shabby Genteel. 

My coat is not cut in good style, 
'And mv hat is a battered old tile; 

•15 



226 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

In fact I am " down a,t the heel," 

For half-souled are the — Shabby Genteel. 

If it wasn't for Fashion and Fate, 
Luck and Love might yet enter my gate, 
But to strive is as hard as to steal 
If you're one of the — Shabby Genteel. 

The pen is poor pay, and the plow 
I could never well handle just now, 
For then Fashion surely would feel 
I'd lost caste — as a — Shabby Genteel. 

Somehow I must keep up the show 
Of being a " Squire " you know^. 
For my Grandfather squandered a deal, 
Though I — but a — Shabby Genteel. 

How I envy a Tramp on his trips 
Who peacefully pockets his ^^ tips," 
Or the Beggar who dances a reel 
At the " w^ake " of some Shabby Genteel 

Here I sit by a cold hearth and shun 
The World — with its frolic and fun, 
Fearing Fortune some day might reveai 
The " last rag " — of the — Shabby Gentee^. 



The Shabby Genteel. 227 

Not the navvy wlio handles the pick, 
ISTot the tramp who can dodge if you kick, 
Half as helpless as poor fools who kneel 
At the — Shrine of the Shabby Genteel. 



228 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



tl&e ffour flDeralDs ot Spring. 

(From the German.) 

Though March still sang a crazy tune. 

Tho' April filched and froze it, 

Spring surely shall not wait 'til June 

And every sparrow knows it. 

As Heralds fair to earth and air 

Spring sends four Fairies busy, 

Whose pranks and jokes make even the oaks 

At last with sun-draughts dizzy. 

Our firstling Fairy wields a brush 

In most artistic fashion, 

He makes the very roses blush 

When painting June's ripe passion; 

Yet earlier still on every hill, 

In every dimpling hollow, 

He leaves a dash of greens that flash 

When frolic sunbeams follow. 

An Artist he, by lassies kissed, 
Tho' less by lords admired, 



The Four Heralds of Spring. 229 

Because he's no '^ Impressionist," 

And so bj Fashion ^' fired " ; 

But mark in May the wondrous way 

He paints you leaf and flower ; 

One violet blue to-day peeps througli, — 

To-morrow — roses shower. 

An Architect of wide renowm 

Our second Sprite or Fairy, 

Tho' less he haunts the busy tow^n 

Tlian holts and highlands airy; 

He seldom strays from woodland ways 

Where lilies lift their chalices, 

And you must look in leafiest nook 

To find his rustic palaces. 

All birds of feathers grave or gay 

Know best his skill in building; 

His rustic grots and cozy cots 

Are graced with gray — not gilding ; 

Here linnets house, there home of grouse, 

And jorees huts and hollows. 

And last he w^eaves, 'neath cottage eaves. 

Clay cabins for his swalloW'S. 

'Our third good Fairy, Vocalist, 
Of w^oodland song the master; 



I 



1 



230 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Ere sunbeams chase the morning mist 

His scholars learn the faster; 

To thrush and throstle this Apostle 

Teacheth a saintly song, 

And '' chatterwit/' with wrens that flit, 

Shall not be silent long. 

This music master wields a wand % 

That keeps the woods in tune 

From April mornings — pale and blond — 

To the blushing days of June : 

On winnowing wings the blue bird sings, 

The throstles thrill on high, 

And when the mower's scythe-blade swings, 

'" Bob White " is in the rye. 

But the last and fourth of these Fairies four. 

Is a queer — quaint — quizzical elf. 

He opens the windows wide, and the door ; — 

Wastes your dollars and breaks your delf ; • 

Undeterred by Doubt, he wanders out, 

A pilgrim through Lorey Land; 

His thirst he slakes with the kisses he takes, 

And builds his house on sand. 

Lo ! — the last of these Fairies — a poet, 
A lover of legend and lilt. 



The Four Heralds of Spring. 231 

A troubadour tramp, and all know it ; 

Yet though ragged his cap and his kilt, 

'Tis this frolicsome fav — who hath lured me 

to-day 
From study — to dabble in song: 
On him be the curse, if my wandering Verse — 
Prove either too learned or too long. 



232 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



(From the German.) 

With faltering steps a maiden goes 

By hedge of thorn and eller, 

By thickets of the briar-rose, 

To where the Fortune-teller, 

A sylvan Sibyl of the woods. 

Deals out in kind her gipsy goods ; 

That is — good pay shall bring good luck. 

But empty hands no laurels ^' pluck." 

Here Mother Mazie, gifts I bring, 

A cockerel and a pullet ; 

Two lovers daily sigh and sing. 

And ask for buss — or — bullet ; 

Each wants to have, of course, his way. 

■Yet I might give them both but, — nay: 

A printer one and brags on brains. 

The other boasts his goods and gains. 

The Gipsy muttered low and long, 

'Was puzzling — if prophetic : 

Laid down the cards, both weak and strong^ 



4 



The Gipsy's Guess. 233 

With gestures half pathetic ; 
This Queen of hearts is jou, my lass, 
And here's a Spade, but let that pass, 
And here's the King of Diamonds gay. 
But then if not quite bald — ^he's gray. 

And here's a Knave, the Knave of Clubs, 

'Not yet too old for fooling, 

Tho' you will sometimes find these cubs, 

In need of steady schooling; 

Lo ! here is one we've never seen. 

He comes as Huntsman clad in green : 

How chanced it, lassie, of this third 

You never even spoke a word ? 

Ah, yes ; you w^hisper shyly — Hush ! 
The third was half forgotten maybe, 
But if he ever saw you blush. 
And failed to take a hint, the gaby 
Could never grumble should he lose 
What many a lad would gladly choose. 
Your silence, ]\raiden, is the seal, 
Of hopes you never spoke, but — feel. 



234 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Ube IDase auD tbe IDtrtuoso I 

In these dull and degenerate days 
Is there no real esthetic Craze ? 
Must Art importune to get a fortune 
In exchange for a — Peach-blow Vase ? 

Who would quarrel about the price 

Of a — Pitcher from Paradise ?■ 

Would a Gold-bug stint the best of his mint, 

And regret an art Critic's advice? 

This is no' jug-handled affair, 
But a charming chance '' on the square " 3 
And even in China you'll find no finer 
Piece of precious old pottery w^are. 

'Tis made of uncommon clay, 

In a very uncommon way, 

And by some mysterious method (I'm serious) 

The color is gold of Kathay. 

Your shoulders, sir, you may shrug, 

And call it a ^^ Jolly old Jug," — 

An old painted pitcher — just fit for a ditcher. 

Or a flagon for tipplers to hug. 



The Gipsy's Guess. 235 

Cjut what do you know of — Desion, 

Of the Infinite curve and the Line? 

Of Kuskinian hints — and Turnerian tints, — 

And the arts that are Deep and Divine ? 

With a little twelve inch rule, 

Do you fancy that any fool 

Who has the leisure — can fathom and measure 

The Artistic Esthetic School ? 

You are only a mud-made man, 

With a soul on the skimpiest plan ; 

With none of the aerial — esthetic — ether ial — 

Elixir in your little '^ tin can." 

You may open 3'our eyes with amaze, 
Ridicule our Japanese Craze, 
Laugh at our pottery, call it a Lottery; — 
But what would you say if it pays ? 

After all the true worth of a Thing, 

Is exactly the Price it will bring; 

That is the gist of it — wisdom and wit of it ; — 

You may say what you choose; — Cash is King! 



236 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



CbrtBtmas Hf ter Mar I 

How shall we greet jou this Christmas, Saint 

]Srick ? 
With, clamor of '^ crackers '' and feasting of 

pies ? 
Shall we surfeit on egg-nog until we grow sick, 
And forget, for a time — that we're weary and 

wise? 

Shall we make — like the Russians — a rushin' 

advance 
On '^ Turkey," — whose " merry thought '' often 

predicts 
That even the ugliest girls have a chance. 
And Bachelors gay may become Benedicts ? 

Shall stockings be filled to the garter with gifts 

For the " legions " of chubby-cheeked '^ infan- 
try,"— say ? 

Shall we find under cover of Winter's white 
drifts 

The joys that make even the saddest hearts gay ? 

Shall the Ledger be laid, with gaunt Care, on 
the shelf,. 



Christmas After War. 237 

And the ^' Imp of the Inkstand '^ take rest for 

a while ? 
Shall we turn for a moment from profit and 

pelf, 
And invest, just for change, in the wealth of a 

smile ? 

Shall the " Ule-log " be lit on the hearth, as 

of old. 
While the ^' mistletoe " shadows discreetly kind 

lips ? 
Shall diffident lovers grow suddenly bold 
As they squeeze " lady-fingers " — just iced at 

the tips ? 

Shall we bury old strifes in the grave of the 

year 
Whose life is so rapidly ebbing away ? 
Shall the shadows of Sorrow now suddenly clear, 
And the sunshine of Hope gild this glorious 

day? 

Shall we gladden the "-Ragged '' with generous 

alms. 
Shall we cheer the sad-hearted with smiles and 

with songs? 



238 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Shall ever-green hollies wreathe ever-green 

palms, 
And Hope bear the half of our troubles and 

wrongs ? 

In a word : — Shall the Dawn of this Sanctified 

Day 
Bring peace upon earth and good-will unto all i 
If so — gray December shall rival green May, 
In spite of the flakes and the flowers that fall. 

Let us turn from the battle-scathed wastes of 

the Past, 
Trusting still that, somewhere in the Desert 

ahead. 
There lies an Oasis, where we at the last 
Shall again find the blooms of the Springs that 

are dead. 



The Sea's Smiles and Sighs. 239 



XTbe Sea's Smiles an^ Stgbs ! 

We walked together side by side 
Along the margin of the sea ; 
We heard the rippling of the tide 
That spoke to her, and spoke to me. 

To her it lisped in lapsing waves 
That kissed the imprint of her feet: — 
" Fair lady, we are willing slaves. 
And gladly bear your freighted fleet 
Of hopes and fancies to the strand 
Of laughing Love's fair Eden Land." 

To me it spoke in monotones, 

Hollow and sad as dirges are ; 

Souls wrecked and hopeless — ^niade low moans 

Wliere the blue sea's sad verges are. 



To me it-s surges seemed to sigh. 
As though from caverns gray and grim 
I heard the wailing half-choked cry. 
Of some sad soul whelmed in the dim 
Deeps under, where the shark is hid 



240 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

Like some sea tiger in his" lair ; 

And with his undulous arms the squid 

Coils like a knot of serpents, where 

The coral cavern yawns below, 

And darkening depths of purple night, 

Wliere phosphorescent phantoms glow, — 

Hold shuddering shadows that affright 

The senses. Hark ! in thunders loud — ■ 

The Storm King calls, and sea-maids stitch. 

Por me a winding sheet and shroud. 

They beckon, and behold — a niche 
Shaped coffin-wise in darkness gapes 
Between two shadow-shrouded capes 
Of fretted rock ; and lo ! — I leap, — 
A lost soul hurled from deep to deep : — 
And she, who watched me from the strand, 
Stretched out, alas, no helping hand ! 



The Tempest's Test. 241 



Ubc ITempest's ZcsU 

I LOVE the gloom of sunless skies 
Where not one glimpse of Heaven's blue eyes 
Foretell Love's benediction ; 
Through shifting shadows dark and dim — 
When all the world seems gray and grim — 
'Tis then that stern conviction, 
Unlured by Fancy's frolic course, 
Finds time to gather faith and force ; 
Unsiren'd by Hope's silvery song, 
Measures the depths of Right and Wrong. 
When skies are clear and sunbeams sift 
Down Life's wide stream — we aimless drift, 
But — when the waves would overwhelm, — 
First the true Pilot finds the helm. 



2^2 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



Ube ^^ Swallow's 1Rest!" 

From Neckarsteinacli down we glide — 
With, wooded slopes on eitlier side ; 
Above, upon the ruddy crags, 
Old castles wave their ivied flags. 

For wisdom who would give a groat ? 
Our hearts are light, and here we float 
With clouds beneath us and above, 
Dreaming our April dreai^ of love. 

Her hands touched mine, our young hearts beat. 
Soft eyes, and then sweet lips, may meet ; 
She blushes rosily, then sighs : 
Ah, youth is happy — if not wise. 

Soft floating down the I^eckar's stream, 
Of Love's bright Eden-land w^e dream; — 
What need of words, when kisses tell 
The secrets we have learned so well ? 

Rough is our boatman, old and gray. 
Yet watching in a stolid way 
Love's pranks, despite dull heart and wit, 
Perhaps he sees the gist of it. 



The Swallow's Rest. 243 

" Young blood is liot/^ our boatman said^ 
^Miereat the maiden turned her head 
And pouted — just enough to show 
She understood how that was so. 

Ah me ! can I be still the same 
In heart and soul — in flesh and frame — 
With that fond youth who half confessed 
His passion at the " S\vallow's nest'' ? 

Alas, in death's eternal calm 
She sleeps beneath some Indian palm ; 
And I, involved in life's cold schemes, 
Dare scarce recall Love's earlier dreams. 

Though now life's flowers fading fast, — 
Wliat help — to mourn the buried past ? 
Red lips' may kiss, white arms enfold, 
But new loves cannot match the old. 



244 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 



XTbe mew morlb. 

(Noi discovered hy Columhus & Co.) 

I STAND on the Mountain's summit, 

And Science and Art combine, 

With my pencil and my plummet, 

To sketch you a novel design 

Of a world without affectation ; 

Wliere ^' sunflowers " never could grow, 

Where tints are not all Turnerian, 

!Nor landscapes all Corot ; — 

Where Diaz is not dazzling 

The dunces with blot and blur, 

And where " Arrangements " in '' Black and 

Yellow " 
Don't so frequently occur; — 
Where a Whistler in vain might whistle 
For a crazy canvas sold, 
Where a Wylde but finds a thistle — 
Instead of a cabbage in Gold ; — 
Where l^ature is sometimes natural, 
Where Love is not always Despair ; — 
Where the Prince and Plutocrat don't always 



126 



The New World. 245 

Get more than the ^^ Lion's share '^ 
Of the profits and pleasures of Life, 
Whilst below — in the sewers and slums — 
The hornj-handed laboring man 
Is starving on kicks and crumbs. 

A world where they don't dance '' germans,^ 
Where broadcloth is not better than brain; 
Where though children may dabble in dirt- 
pies,— 
Dirt-daubers just catch the cane; 
A world with no Politicians, — 
!N'o Party save the Party of Eight; 
Where Law doesn't laugh at Equity, 
And where Justice is stronger than Might; 
Where Success is not always the only test 
Of merit for Person or Purse ; 
Where the Thief of a Million no better is 
Than a Thief of a thousand, but worse ; 
Where the Rebel who wins is not greater. 
And the Rebel who loses not less ; 
Where Manhood is not merely Muscle, 
And Beauty is not all Dress ; 
Wliere the Bullies of Battles are but Butchers, 
And Greatness not measured by — Gains ; 
Where Thorns do not fret Passion's Roses, 



246 Songs of the Sahkohnagas. 

ISTor Purity's Lily show stains; 

Where whatever the Game we are playing 

We must win by " Honors "—not '' Tricks " 

(Though I fear such a world is divided 

From ours by the river called Styx) : — 

In a word an Eden '^ re-constructed " 

AATiere no merciless Father doth tempt 

His own children ; from serpents forbidding 

And Fruitage forbidden — exempt. 

Yet in spite of its manifold merits 

(And they are doubtless all tested and true) 

The Sinner — who sin inherits — 

Prefers probably the " Old " to the '' ^w," 

And would much rather take his chances 

With the Devil he's known from his birtb, 

Than to risk his Fun and Finance^ 

With a God — too fine for Earth. 




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